Fervent Wishes
by ShingekiNoPantsu
Summary: An AU where Jon doesn't go to the Wall but instead stays by Robb's side and becomes his General, aiding him to win the war of five kings. It all comes into effect after a healer helps their ill sibling and unknowingly changes the fates of the Starks like the butterfly effect. Jon x OC
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Never will I, never have I, and never will I in the future own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones.

 **Author's Note** : I just couldn't resist. I kept thinking of a time where if Robb still lived and if Jon joined him, so I did it. I'll be keeping up with the other story rather slowly because there's so many possible routes I could go with it, but I just can't stop myself from thinking this out and I'm attached the OC I made. I hope you enjoy this one and if you don't know the other story I'm talking about then that's okay! This is something totally new and from a different yet popular perspective.

* * *

Skies, vast and blue, were not filled with many of the usual clouds for the day. The wind had a bit of a chill but it was not numbing, but lulling and sweet whenever it caressed the skin. That was usually the sign of an omen of the Stranger surveying the lands to find who he will kiss next whether they begged for it or not. The Starks, with an exception of a Snow, went along with their daily lives despite it. Eddard, mainly known as Ned, would not let the eerie feeling of the day stop him from his duties. He was a man of order, who only taken risks when necessary. Since there was nothing to bid him to leave his duties, he continued on despite how Catelyn's blue eyes would look out into the lands of her home with trepidation. The woman relied heavily on her intuition, and it was shaking her; speaking in forms of blood icing in her veins that something was ahead that she would come to dread.

Robb, young and carefree, would not be bothered neither. He, like his father, tackled problems head on usually with the thoughts of keeping in mind of the future and its obstacles. Since he was still rather young, his heart ruled him and tended to cloud his judgement, but he was on his way to something greater in the future. He continued to bear smiles and partake in group laughs with his brother as well as his good friend, and his father's ward, Theon. "Jon," He said with his lip turned upward in a rather taunting smile, "do you plan to keep your virginity forever?"

His brother, Jon, who was not trueborn as was he, looked more like a Stark than one could ever imagine. The boy with black and thick hair that curled as if it was impossible to be straight and his eyes, his eyes you would never believe were grey since upon sight they were so dark that you would believe they were black. His skin was fair and his body lean. That was the true essence of a Stark man.

Jon's lips parted to retort but he said nothing. It was known to most that women made him flustered and even speaking about them left a knot in his throat, but he could not stand his eldest brother's teasing. "No." He simply said, rather leaving it at that.

His brother merely quirked a brow, "Then why not go the brothel and rid yourself of it? Dear Brother, have fun and stop wasting time before you die as you are."

"Too many risks." Was Jon's reply as to what made Theon and Robb share a look with one another. "Where is Bran? He should be fixing his skill with the bow." He much rather change the topic, to shift the focus elsewhere. He did not want to talk about his virginity anymore.

"There you go," Theon went onto say, that smile of his borderline sinister, "always changin' the subjects, aren't ya?" With a sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest. "What's to worry about Bran? He'll get himself right, but you, Jon, you can solve your problems in ten minutes."

"That's a short time." Robb commented, "Is that how long you last then, Theon?" In his own right, he was defending his brother as well as jesting Theon, who looked miffed by his best friend's taunt.

"You know better!" Theon barked, "I please the ladies first and get the pleasure for myself last."

"Of course." The Winterfell heir didn't seem all that sold, "I've just heard otherwise."

Jon smirked as the Greyjoy went rigid, his eyes slightly fixed between bulging out of their sockets and trying to keep their cool. "And who said that, Robb?"

Keeping the tension, Robb had remained quiet and his eyes looked around as if he was trying to remember the name. "It wouldn't be fair if I told." He went on to say, enjoying the way the way Theon was nearly going wild with desperation, wanting to hear the answer so badly and annoyed when Roob would not give it.

A young boy with a thick mop of brown hair and eyes the color of soil had come running through. The happiness in his face was swept away with distress had he tried to slip his way past through every single body that came in his way. He obliged them with apologies and excuses as he went, they let it go since the boy was well loved by everyone of the castle. He came to a stop, his shoulders rising up and down as he tried to catch his breath. "Bran?" Jon called him, "what brings you out here? Ready to fix your aim?"

The boy shook his head, his hands on his knees as he tried to refill his lungs. They were practically rattling from how hard he ran from inside the castle and to outside. When he finally felt able to speak, his head rose up and his eyes looking at the three of them. "Arya," he said as he let a few coughs escape him, "Arya is…" Sick? Unwell? He didn't know how to put it. "She just fell to the floor!"

"What?!" Robb, shocked and clearly worried, had furrowed his brows upon the news. "Did you tell Father and Mother? How about Maester Luwin?"

He nodded his head quickly. "They are with her now, but I wanted to tell you all."

"Thank you, Bran." The eldest Stark placed his large hand on the boy's shoulders, giving it a tight squeeze as he could see Jon's hurried steps to the castle. Jon and Arya were quite close and so he knew that Jon would want to be by Arya's side immediately.

As soon as they made their way inside their home, they knew that what Bran had told them struck true. The castle of Winterfell was usually the home of noise; the sound of children laughing and their feet quickly thumping down the halls in sound of pitter patters and the sound of conversations bouncing off the walls. Today, however, it was filled with such a suffocating silence. There was no merriment to be had or sights of smiles adorning the faces of those who lived and worked in the castle or even those who lived outside it. There were too many worried looks and rather grim eyes that had stared down at the floors as their minds were clouded and lost in thought. What could be done? That was on the minds of everyone. How could they save them? That was the second thought. Nobody had known what to do or how to heal the child. The Maester tried his best and the Septa knew nothing of the illness either.

What could be done?

Something had to be done.

A woman of beautiful woman with wrinkles of age that did not lessen her beauty sat beside the bed. Her dark auburn hair shifted ever so lightly with her movement, as her slender hand would let the knuckles brush over the sweaty skin of the child that laid so sickly in bed. Her blue eyes roamed over child sadly as she wondered how to break this fever that claimed her young. Her hands already made a prayer wheel to the Seven, asking the Gods to save her child.

"I do not know what ails Lady Arya but I know we must act fast." said Maester Luwin. He was short in stature and old with his head nearly bald save for the thin, straight grey hairs that clung to the sides and back of his head. His brown eyes were glossed with sadness as he felt useless. He was a healer and any healer that felt they could not save their patient, especially the child of the Lord they served, had felt like a failure. Eddard did not blame him or fault him in any way. He gave the Maester a sharp nod with a look in his eyes that said: 'You've done all you can.'

Catelyn felt her heart plummet to the pits of her stomach at the man's words as she grasped onto the small girl's hands. "How does not one soul know what ails her? How does this happen out the blue?" She question, her voice rather shaky. "Gods, please do not take her from me."

Jon, Theon, Robb, and Bran hurriedly entered the room as their little sister lied in bed. It was the most still they had ever seen her, their little wild girl. Her body was warm to touch that Catelyn felt like the girl's skin was aflame. Her pale countenance could even been seen by a man with no sight and beads of sweat formed on her brow and upper lip, streaming down whenever they pooled too much. Her eyes squeezing shut, her lips snarling with pain as she began to glisten due to her sweat. Arya's hair was wet from her sweat, making it look darker than it was.

"We will need to find a healer, that's all." Eddard effortlessly said since he felt Arya could be saved from the illness that claimed her. She was a Stark and Starks did not die from illnesses. They wouldn't let something they could fight claim them, he thought.

"You say it so simple as if that it could be easily done." His wife said, her voice taut. "Where would you find one that could do what Maester Luwin can't?"

He knew his wife was speaking from worry and his hands comfortably rested on her shoulders as the steel grey of his eyes looked down at his youngest daughter. "There are people who know more and they can be found, Cat. So rest your weary heart and give me if only just a little of that Tully hope of yours."

His words did bring a ghost of a smile on her lips. She gave a stiff nod, "As long as you do the Stark way and find an answer."

Jon then took a step forward, he knew he might be overstepping his bounds at the moment. In a way, he was invading the moment of Catelyn trying to soothe her sickly daughter by letting her know that she was not alone. A mother and a sick child was a time to tread lightly, but he hoped his words could give some form of comfort. He loved Arya, she was his little sister, and he enjoyed the fierceness that was she. "I'll do it." He volunteered, "I'll find a healer that can cure her."

Eddard raised his head and turned to his son with a gleam in his eyes that danced with surprise and hesitation. He could see that Jon was sure about it, and never could you douse the determination when he set his heart to something. "On your own?"

"On my own." He quickly answered. "Arya needs you both." He nodded, feeling right by his words. "She can do without me."

His eyes looked to Catelyn who seemed to be mulling over the fact. He knew his father's wife, Lady of Winterfell, never much cared for him. He had knew well of the undercurrents of her disguised disgust for him for he was a bastard, a child made of his father stepping out of the sacred bond and loving marriage between the two. How could he trust that she would entrust the life of her daughter on him? She would undoubtedly be against it, wouldn't she? Jon was prepared to be turned down, he figured it was coming, but the woman remained silent as she ran her hand across the girl's brow.

Robb looked to Jon and then at his father. He could not remain silent any longer, "I'll help."

Jon shook his head, "No, Robb, you stay. Let me go on my own."

It wasn't that Robb felt Jon was unable, that was the least of his thoughts, but he wanted to lessen the stress of the load. One person just searching all around for a healer with so many villages and places to go all around them? They could lessen the search if both of them went and split up whenever it was needed. He also did not want to sit and do nothing while his baby sister was ill. He would liked to help too.

"Both of you go." Catelyn finally spoke up, "Go so Arya can know peace and not who does what."

Her husband looked away at both boys and at his wife, who pressed Arya's small hand against her face. She wanted to be with her in peace and the boys were disrupting it despite how noble their cause was. "I'll entrust you both." He finally declared, "Do your best."

Jon did not argue and gave a nod. With one look at Arya, he said. "Hold on, little sister." His voice was barely audible, "I'll get you cured soon." He would, of that he was sure. A healer would be brought for the sake of this child.

 **. . .**

The way her fingers, pale and slender, would gently snap the flower as if to hush it from a painful death. All things lived, she knew, and she did not enjoy taking any form of life despite how this very thing could save hundreds of people. The beautiful shrub would miss the flowers but it will grow new ones in their places. The Prince's Flower was what the flower was named, it was red with a purple tint and with fuzzy spires. This flower with such a name would help the ill of the village. Curiously, she brought it to her nose to inhale its natural scent and greeted with a natural smell and not a particular odor. Her cheeks puffed, quite disappointed at that, and placed in the woven basket so that she could collect more.

Across the field, a man watched as she picked up medicinal flowers during her walk. The woman appeared a few months ago at their small village and became a local healer due to the large number of the wounded and ill that resided here. He, Adney, had personally taken her to his father's clinic so that she could take on the job. She shared his home with his father to become his father's assistant and together, they would be a force of caring for the villagers. He had headed back to his work in the farming field when they began to talk of work, but never, not even once, could he stopped thinking about her. He hurriedly completed his work, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young woman before she left.

Everyone called her a mysterious beauty; her features were striking but none of the noble tales of golden hair or eyes of bright blue. No, she had black, straight hair that fell around her face. Her eyes were blue but a deeper color; they looked like rocky waters that would send men over aboard and filling their lung with water to drown them of life. There was nothing evil in her eyes though, they were warm and they sparkled like a star-glittered sky at night.

Adney had no interest nor skills in the field of medicine; he also had no tolerance for blood, and who would dare want a squeamish doctor? Over the course of the few months, she proved to be a knowledgeable and well-loved person throughout it. Amara, her name was, was thorough with her administrations and completely efficient. The way she spoke was with authority, but you could hear the caring quality to her voice that softened the effect. Though she was well-loved, she allowed no one to get close… except for the children, that is.

In all essence of the word did that woman blossom like a flower in spring under the children's attention, and they responded in kind. It was through them that Adney heard her laugh. He deemed it a lovely sound; with a light smokiness that entices the senses. He was enraptured with her from that moment, but she claimed herself as a traveling healer, and all he could do was admire her from afar. It would be an understatement to say that she was oblivious to Adney's appraisal as she completed the tasks before her.

As she sat under a tree, shielding herself of the sun that shined down quite comfortably, she thought of her existence. This was another day of her life of leaving home and what had she done differently. What changes had she made? The truth was… she only exceeded in becoming a healer and nothing more. She continued to live as she always had; she knew no other way. It felt like she just shirked off her responsibility of her people, left him to her brother, so that she could continue the life she had before the death of her father and betrothed.

After letting her brother be Prince of the realm, she decided to spend her time healing the sick. Once in while, she desired the life of a normal woman, but she had done little to accomplish this. Other than her patients and the children, she made no other close associations. Amara had not even visited her only remaining close relative.

She sat pulling leaves and flowers from the ground, reflecting on the last time she had seen her brother. They had gone to the waterfall she would take him to escape, splashing each other to have fun when he was just a tiny boy. As he had grown, she could tell he looked weary and anguished from the events of losing their father. Naran had not understood why the man that his sister would marry had killed their father. He could not understand why Qasar could do such a thing. Amara had to teach him of the treacherous, vile, and sometimes good world they lived in and leave the rest to her uncles to make sure he understood. It pained her to leave him but she knew there was no other reason for her to stay. He would be a good and just prince like their father, she knew it.

Without a second to waste on the past, her head tilted to the sky. Little time did she have to marvel in the simple of beauty of nature that did not revolve around plants. The ocean was much missed and so was the vast mountains of her home. It had been so long since she thought about it, and it made her heart ache so. With her basket full, the woman rose and dusted off her long attire to make her way to the clinic's lodgings.

In the distance, she had saw two peculiar men, men she never seen before. They rode with urgency to the village and she wondered what to make of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Never will I, never have I, and never will I in the future own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones.

 **Author's Note** : Wow, I didn't expected for all those faves and follows. I'm glad everyone is interested!

Ean d'arc: I was honestly scared writing for half of them. I was afraid I would make them OOC. Eddard is hard to imagine in my head, so yeah. That part just might be canon, sadly. I love him but I know I can't do him justice. I can't tell you the rest of that though!

Frozen862: I know he doesn't have one, but he was going to be given one by Robb. He told his mother that he was going to make Jon a heir to North; a Stark in his will. That's what I meant. Sorry if I was confusing.

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From the field, Adney watched as the two men soon arrived with a troop behind them. One man was dressed in expensive clothing with two banner men beside him. It was obvious that he was their commander, and the hardened expression on his face only further proved that man lived through battles and war. The villagers had watched with hesitance since it never boded well with the weak whenever militia arrived. During these times, villages had been raided for food, supplies, and most often their women; therefore, it only made perfect sense for everyone to be cautious.

Amara, inside the room she was occupying in the doctor's lodging, had just finished sterilizing the last of the bandages. Carefully, she wrapped them in individual satchels to keep them clean and for easy access. As she thoroughly put them away, she used the sleeve of her black garb to pat the excess moisture from her face. Amara had planned to go, seeing as how her patients were doing well and did not need her hovering over them in their healing process. After all, she could go back here and continue her practice until she felt she would have to leave again. This was the longest she ever stayed in a village and she didn't want to linger here anymore than she already had.

Leaving the doctor's humble abode, she was surprised to see four soldiers outside of it. Her eyes widened slightly, not too much to reveal her shock, but enough to show the inquisitive look on her face. Her mouth remained thinned as one man spoke to her, "Are you the woman physician?"

"I'm not a physician." She calmly corrected him.

"You are a healer then," The mounted soldier pressed, "you care for the sick and the injured; is that so?" With a smile, he cleared his throat and began to introduce himself. "I am Commander Vernon Aston of the third squad of House Long." Such a name held power or so it was to be expected from the way he said with importance; however, the young woman appeared quite unimpressed. "We are in need of your services." He continued, "A few of my men are severely injured. We have traveled as far as their condition allows, but the nearest medical unit is miles away. We would like you to evaluate them; we shall offer a hefty sum for your inconvenience, of course.

Even though she wanted to reject, she would much rather care for children than see the painful spice of war. Amara wanted to rid herself of the sights and the pain she had to endure to cut off limbs that would give infection and death; to see an eye stabbed clean through by the sharp edge of blade or other body horrors that she wished to rid herself clean of until she could finally move past it. Just thinking of the groans of suffering and the smells of dirt and blood made bile want to rise from her throat. Even though she was used to the smells, it still was hard to swallow even form memory alone.

Nobody forced Amara to be a healer either and nobody forced her to put herself through the trauma to continuously help soldiers. They were still people and they needed her skills. What would she look like turning them down? She was a healer, she couldn't heal only specific people. That wasn't her. Whoever in need would receive her skill. "No inconvenience and nor is the currency is of importance." She informed him. "Where are your injured?"

"Our camp is set up about a mile north of here." He stated, "Once examined, will the village be able to house the injured unable to make the journey? That is… until a medical unit can return for them."

Sewing her hands together, she let out a sigh. "That can only be arranged if the villagers allow it. I do not live here and so I cannot be for sure that they'll accept." She stated, "But I must inquire, Commander, is the encampment close to active battle?"

"No," Vernon answered, "the battle commences several miles from here."

The healer nodded, quite happy about that fact. "Unless there is an urgency, I will prepare and come to your camp early to mid morning tomorrow."

"No hurry." Vernon smiled from his horse. "We are indebted to you, Miss…?"

"Amara." She answered, "No need." Modestly, she gave a slight bow. "It is my duty." With that said, she returned inside the lodgings.

Vernon turned his steed and headed back down the lane. A small smile appeared on his lips as he thought of the intriguing woman he had just encountered; a woman skilled in the healing arts and a desirable one at that. Due to war, it had been exactly two months since he had the pleasure of a woman's company. Who knew that such a shaggy and small village like this one held such exquisite flowers?

"The woman is pretty despite the likeliness of a witch she gives off." He heard one of his men say. "I'll bet she's really smart though."

"Yeah," said a second soldier, "right now I'm wishin' I was one of the injured."

"I'd find something to break, just so she could take care of me." The last added. The others joined in laughter, inventing possible illnesses to attract the attentions of the healer.

That would not happen though, thought Vernon. As their commander, he was in position to claim the first rights on anything, including women. Perhaps he could persuade her to share a meal and some wine with him.

Corwin, physician and father of Adney, bowed as the soldiers passed, keeping his eyes to the ground. Only the soldiers acknowledged his presence and returned the greeting. As the old man lifted his head, he noticed the smirk on the commander's lips. He may be an old man, but he was still too keen to not miss the look of lust in a man's eyes.

:::

"We've been riding for hours."

Jon was tired, and his horse was too. The horse wanted to practically throw him off when they reached the stream. Robb managed to dampen the flare of his horse's ire by leading it to the stream while Jon's just unabashedly went to the water itself. Glancing at his brother, Robb gave him an easy smile. "We haven't been riding for _that_ long." He rolled his eyes, letting his hand soothingly go over the neck of the horse as it drank merrily.

"It feels like it." Jon's eyes soon looked up to see a young boy with what looked to be a bunch of flowers in his hands. He had golden hair, one that shined whenever sunlight had hit it, and bright and round green eyes that reminded one of evergreen trees. He was short, probably ten at most, but it was peculiar seeing such a child walking freely by the stream, with flowers, and a smile on his face at that. "You think he knows of a village close by here?" He asked his brother.

Robb turned to the child, brow quirked as the boy had a much hurried yet happy skip to his step. "It wouldn't hurt to ask." Knowing he couldn't cross the stream, the current far too wild for him to attempt it without his horse, he tried a different approach. "Excuse me!" He yelled, "Boy!"

The golden-haired child ceased his walking and slowly turned, "Oh, hello!" Jon was surprised that boy held no fear. He was in every sense of the word: chipper.

"Is there a village close by?" In a calming voice but loud enough to speak of the stream, he asked. "My brother and I are in need of a healer."

"A healer?" The boy's eyes widened, "I know of one! I'm on my way to see 'er."

"A woman?" It wasn't out of the ordinary but he wanted to be sure.

The boy nodded in reply, "She can heal anyone! She help rid ol' River boy of his rash and the skin looks nice and new."

Both Starks boys looked at one another, seemingly feeling confident in this woman. This was their first lead and they didn't want Arya to continue to suffer. "Can you take us to her?"

"Sure, but you'll have to hurry on up. I don't want to keep 'er waiting." Patiently, he waited for them to climb back on his horse. Jon had offered the child a ride, who quickly accepted. He kept a tight grip on the flowers in one arm, refusing to not let a single one fall while the other arm locked onto Jon.

Curious, Jon decided to ask. "Are those flowers for the healer?"

"Yes." The boy answered, "She said these are one of 'er favorites!"

The flowers were pretty yet very strange. The stem of them were a vibrant green, long and slender, while the flower itself was red and bulb-like. Jon never seen them before and so he was captivated by the sight of them. They stood out very clearly unlike any other flower he seen before. "Why are you giving her flowers?" He knew that it was possible the child just liked the woman and so he wanted to gift her with flowers, but to hear an explanation would prove rather interesting.

"I like 'er." The boy simply said, he looked at the flowers in his arms fondly before looking up at the Stark. "She saved me Pa; he was really, really sick. Couldn't even keep food down for a while 'cause that's how bad it was. I want to give 'er somethin' 'cause I know she'll be leavin' again soon. This way she can't forget me and knows how grateful me is. She can't forget the lil' boy named Austin, not evah!"

Robb chuckled, enthused by the boy's determination. "You're braver than most men I know. My own brother isn't even that brave with girls."

Shooting him a look, he then fixed his eyes ahead as he felt slightly embarrassed. Robb would never end his teasing, would he? How long would it take? Until he finally lay with a woman? Austin, however, was happy at the compliment Robb gave him as there was a tint of a rosy color on his face. "What makes you scared of girls?" He asked Jon.

With a groan, he set his jaw as he tried to focus his eyes forward. "I'm _not_ afraid of girls."

"That's what he said, and he's your brother!" The younger Stark just gave Austin a dull stare, "You _are_ afraid of girls, aren't you? That's 'kay though. We all fear a lil' somethin'." Robb covered his mouth as he turned away, feeling Jon's eyes like daggers at the back of his head. Yes, he knew Jon would be sore about this one. "Go a little ways left, right here." Austin pointed, "Then keep on goin' north some and then we're there!"

It was quite a sight before them, the village, as they arrived about thirty minutes with the help of the blond-haired boy. It was small but it was filled with many of people ranging from old to young; men and women to boys and girls. The people looked comfortable and not too poor just enough to fend for themselves themselves without the help of anyone else but one another. Trees had also grew comfortably around it to act like a barrier at the north of it and not too faraway were rows and rows of crops for the farmers to tend, grow, and harvest. Robb looked to Jon, who looked back, as they were both equally surprised. Never would they guess for a village like this to be not too far from Winterfell, just tucked neatly away in the valley.

"Right there is the place she stays." Austin spoke up, his finger pointing steadily at the medium-sized building. "Its owned by Corwin who lives with his son, but Miss Amara, the healer, lives with 'em."

Jon and Robb continued their way there, steadily as they could feel the eyes of the villagers on them. Some seemed more curious than they were wary, but they seemed to understood this purpose in coming when they saw where they were heading.

Shortly after, a woman left the lodge and dusted her hands. Robb and Jon were surprised to know that this woman wasn't as old as they had expected her to be. For a second, they had wondered if the young woman before them was the healer or not. "Miss Amara!" Austin called her happily and once she looked at him she gave him a warm smile. Her eyes then looked up to both young men with question, wondering why Austin was with them. Jon left his horse first and brought Austin to his feet, Robb left his horse after them.

Bending her knees to reach Austin's level, she held out her arms so that he could run into them and that he did. "Are you all right?" She asked as he left her hug to look at her, her hands laid on his shoulders and her thumbs rubbing into them in small and comforting circles.

"I'm alright," He nodded, "they said they needed a healer and you're the best so I took 'em here."

Cautiously, she looked at them both and studied them. Neither looked sick or injured, so she wondered if they fed the poor boy a lie. "They don't look like they need one to me." She replied, haughtily and loud enough for them to hear. Never would she allow someone to use Austin for anything that these two might've wanted. It was foul, using children for one's gain, and she would not tolerate it.

Jon looked to his brother, wanting him to do the explaining. Robb looked to him, mystified why the responsibility fell on his shoulders, but took it since there was no other way. " _We_ do not need one but our little sister does." He finally said, wondering if the woman would believe him.

Interested, as well as worried, she stood up straight and kept her hands on the boy's shoulders. "What ails her?" She asked, eyes scanning the two just in case something did not seem right.

"We're not exactly sure." Jon spoke up this time as he remembered the state Arya was in, "But she has a very terrible fever and looks to be in a lot of pain." That's how he saw it when he saw his wild sister lying in her bed being unable to be as she naturally was. It felt odd not to see her running around and causing whatever mischief she felt like doing for the day or to not see her firing her arrows, better than Bran could even muster. The poor girl looked as if she was clinging on the ledge of life and her fingers were slowly slipping from her grip, one by one.

"How many days of fever?" The woman pressed. "Has anyone else tried to cure her?"

"Just one." Robb answered, "And no. After the Maester failed to name her illness, my mother will allow none to touch her now; only she attends her with water since she sweats of fever, heavily."

Amara's eyes looked to the ground, realizing that she already promised to help the soldiers. She did not know what truly ailed the girl since she did no inspection. It may have sounded like a simple cold but it could be much more. It might require days to cure her, and who knows how badly injured that commander's men were? This was a tight bind, but she could never deny children.

"I promised a man that I would tend to his wounded men by light tomorrow." She informed them, "Afterwards, I'll go with you to heal the child. I cannot go back on my promise but I _will_ take care of your sister."

Even though they wanted to take her to Arya right away, they knew it would be unfair. Robb gave her a nod, approving of that plan. "If you'd like, we'll accompany you."

"Thank you." Her voice gave away her surprise, "But… there is no need…"

"I beg to differ, Miss Amara." Robb interrupted. "We will escort you there, assist in any way we can, and see you to our sister and take you back home safely." His voice broke no argument. "Besides…" The way the tone of his voice changed was one of appeal, "…the reward you shall receive for helping one of the five heirs of Winterfell will be a great one, I assure you."

The offer did not strike odd to Jon. There was a reason why women loved him and it was because he was the true essence of a prince as well as gentleman. Amara eyed him, surprised when he practically informed her they were Starks. She knew of them through tales but never had she thought she'd meet one for herself. That proved more interesting than the boastful commander she had met earlier. At least this fellow was merely teasing and not serious.

"I only care for the child." She gave them a small smile, "I need no rewards, my lord."

Robb was surprised. The woman would've been given such a hefty sum and she didn't care? Most women—anybody in general—would be happy for such a prize. Jon remained surprised too but then admired her for her sense of duty that came with kindness and not profit.

Meekly, she lowered her head as she massaged the child's shoulders absently. "You'll need a place to stay."

"There's an empty home down there." said Austin, "'Member when Old Lady Lena died? Her home has been empty evah since."

Amara nodded, "Yes… I remember." Wistfully, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "If it makes either one of you uncomfortable—"

"There's no place that a person hasn't died." Jon gave her a reassuring smile, still feeling quite small in her presence. Since his brother was there and the small boy, smiling with a few of his teeth missing, he couldn't find it himself to be appear like a bumbling idiot like he usually was with women. "We'll take it."

His brother nodded, feeling okay with the situation as well. Austin then turned to Amara, holding out the flowers. "I picked 'em for you, Miss Amara. I knew how much you like 'em."

Her eyes crinkled with her smile, showing mirth and adoration. She gently took them from him and the rested her hand on his head, tousling his golden locks. "You're the sweetest thing, aren't you?"

"Not really." He shrugged rather modestly, kicking his feet a little as he felt too flustered to keep eye contact. "You've just been good to me."

Her eyes observed his face and then looked down at the flowers, "These are very important, don't you know?"

"I didn't, I swear I didn't! Tell me!" He shook his head wildly as he expressed his excitement. While Robb was making his way down to the empty cottage, Jon had stayed behind and curiously listened to Amara explain the importance of those strange flowers. "What do they do?"

"You remember when that one boy was feeling really, really badly when he was sick?" Her voice soft as she asked.

"Yes." Was the answer she received.

Showing him the root of the flower with the tip of her finger, she gave it a pat as she her eyes looked at him as she explained. "Well, I made it into a drink and it made him calm down. He was no longer scared or worried and he said it tasted sweet since I added fruit."

"That root did all of that?" Picking up the flower, he examined it with astonishment. "Miss Amara, can you teach me to heal? I think being a healer is a good job."

Jon's eyes watched as the woman rubbed the boy's head as if he were her own flesh and blood. In a way, it reminded him of what he envisioned what a mother—his mother—would've done for him. He never met his mother; not a glimpse or even a tale of her. Hell, he never even knew her name. His father always kept pushing off the talk as if he never wanted to be bothered to tell him about her.

"I can't teach you for that would acquire a lot of time, but you know who can?"

"The physician!" Her head went into a slow nod, "I should ask 'im."

"That would best, Austin."

Not listening to a second more, Jon followed where he had seen Robb go and gave the healer and the child time to talk alone in private.

 **. . .**

The sky today was cloudless, she would squint up at the sun that seemed rather blinding today. The wind swayed the branches and tugged at her garb, her hair windblown. The air smelled of calming nature—the smell of pines and pollen proved to be quite the refreshing treat for her lungs. These were the smell of nature that she adored, and it was a smell she was forced to get used to for her occupation. Everything that was a great distraction to keep her from being angry now and not show her waspish tongue to the Stark boys was good enough for her. How could they bring Austin along? Even though the boy wouldn't prove a handful for he was quite obedient with her than he was with his own father, she did not see him seeing the horrors of battles; of war, no less. Yes, they were a constant and he could not hide and be innocent forever, but she wish to prolong his innocence just for a little while but the young man, Robb, pursued the idea that the boy get his first taste of the inevitable.

The silence between them was rather awkward and the tension was extremely thick, but Austin remained nonplussed. He rode with Amara on her own horse and hummed a rather happy tune as she allowed him to hold the reigns as they did a steady pace. His golden hair would ever so softly brush against his shoulders, quite happy that woman made it her duty to trim his hair. He couldn't stop swinging it left and right whenever he was given the chance, especially after the compliments he was given on how handsome he looked.

Robb remained quiet on why Austin truly wanted to go, and he could see the anger flood in the woman's eyes and make them quite darker than they seemed. The woman had some truly scary expressions she could twist and it unnerved him. He could still hear Austin's plea in his head every time he looked at him: _"I want to go. I don't trust the soldiers. I felt very queasy after the way one of 'em talked to 'er. She didn't know I was there, but I saw and then I quickly ran for flowers so I could cheer 'er up. I might be wrong about 'em, but you have to let me go."_ The boy said it literally sent shivers down his spine from the way that man looked at her. Robb couldn't just let the woman go on her own. It was hardly safe for women to travel alone anyway.

Jon glanced at the woman as she seemed to look at everything that was not them. He just didn't understand why Robb remained silent on the fact Austin was worried for her and that's why he wanted to go. He was good at talking, better than him, and so he could've doused her anger rather quickly, couldn't he? Maybe he didn't know what to say without outing him, which seemed unfair since he outed Jon whenever the chance he had.

When they arrived, they saw that the encampment was small and shabbily erected. The men stood as Amara and her apparent entourage rode through and stopped in front of the structure where Vernon stood to receive them. Amara reigned in her mount, Robb and Jon did the same. Robb was the first to walk down and Jon the second. Since he was closer, Jon held out his hand for the woman to take and she eyed him curiously. The smile he gave her was just a half one and she took his gloved hand and climbed down. Her hands brought down the small boy and he was glad to briefly be held in her arms. Respectfully, Robb and Jon stood slightly behind them and they all bowed to the commander.

Vernon eyed the Starks boys and then down at the child, his eyes squinting in question. "Is he your son?" He asked.

"No." Was her simple reply, "If he was, would it matter?"

"Of course not." With a smile he then continued on, "Thank you for coming, Miss Amara." Vernon said cordially. "I have refreshments for you and your guests." His eyes roamed to the three of them as he said guests. "Would you care to join me before you evaluate the injured?"

"Thank you, but I must refuse. I would like to get started immediately." She responded. "But I'm sure they haven't eaten." She looked down at Austin and at the young men behind her. "Do you three need nourishment?"

"Oh… of course." Clearing his throat, Vernon turned to them. "Please, help yourselves."

Robb cocked his head at an angle, eyes squinting as he detected undertones of disappointment in the man's voice. It hadn't gone unnoticed by Jon either, who quirked a brow instead before both brothers glanced at one another for confirmation. "We're fine." Robb spoke up, "How about you, Austin?"

"I'm fine too!" He replied cheerfully, "Pa gave me somethin' to eat 'fore me left."

Relieved, Robb watched Amara looked at Vernon questioningly. "If you will show us the way, we can get started." Amara informed him, not wanting to waste any time.

"I will personally escort you." The commander turned and offered his hand. Jon and Robb looked down at the offered hand and then at the healer, who tactfully ignored it by taking hold of Austin's instead.

"Come along, Austin." She said and nodded to the commander to precede her. Her head then turned to the Starks, "Would you please see to the supplies?" She asked innocently. Both of them began to unpack horse and Vernon surmised that this woman was very much used to giving orders and having them obeyed. This intrigued him even more and he found her challenging.

As they approached the tent that was housing the wounded soldiers, Vernon wondered if the woman had a lover. The villagers had not mentioned him; therefore, Vernon could only assume that the man was dead as the woman spoke for herself. The men that followed her didn't seem quite as close to her either, and he didn't see them in the village from before but something told him that he should know who they were. Their clothing, after all, seemed oddly familiar.

If she was widowed then he could consider that a convenience. They were experienced lovers, without the nuisance of offending their honor or virtue, whatever it is chosen to be called. Usually, a trinket, bauble or a roll of the finest silk would cement discretion and he wondered which Amara would prefer.

"Here we are." Vernon announced unnecessarily as they arrived at the tent of the wounded. "If you will excuse me, I have important business to attend. Contact my men once you have completed the examinations and they will notify me." With a slight bow of his head, he turned and left them. Amara, still holding on to Austin's hand, turned and entered the tent.

The smell of infected flesh and vomit assailed their nostrils. As Amara was used to these conditions, she held back the bile that wanted to be released and let out a long sigh. She looked questioningly down on the boy at her side. This was the main reason why she didn't want him here; to see and to smell all of this. "You can always wait outside."

"No… I'll be all right," The boy said. "I can help."

Hearing Robb and Jon enter, Amara began issuing directives. "I need fresh water," She stated. Robb gave a nod and exited the tent. "And… kindle for a fire," She said to Jon. "Set it up just outside." He left to do her bidding.

"Austin, you will assist me." Rolling up the sleeves of her robe, she turned to her aids. "Let's do what we can."

* * *

 **A/N** : Next chapter should be giving Amara time before displaying most of her personality. She's a rather rough customer but she's playing a game since doesn't really trust the commander. She doesn't want to jump to conclusions but she's watching him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Never will I, never have I, and never will I in the future own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones.

 **Author's Note** : And here's another chapter for a while. I hope I did Jon justice in POV.

* * *

 **Amara's POV**

I felt more than relieved; I felt like an entire weight lifted off my shoulders just now. The conditions that many of the soldiers were in did not require extensive treatment, so there would be no reason for me to stay for much longer. I already finished halfway through, but that was because of the help I had and dare I say I was an efficient person. My evaluation revealed that most of the soldiers had suffered through the usual battle wounds, but none of which that would prevent them from traveling. I was quite amused that Austin and the Starks were quite the hard workers. Their diligence amazed me and they never fumbled in the tasks I gave them much like Adney would have whenever I was forced at hand for his assistance.

I couldn't help but keep an eye out for one: Jon. I would be blind and deaf if I said I never seen or heard him being quite nervous when he spoke to me. He kept his distance much throughout our work and would rather take requests that required him to leave the tent. Never was I sure if the reason being was that he couldn't stand the smell of the wounded or if he would rather just stay away from me. I wanted to ask but now wasn't the right time. Maybe he was having second doubts of me being the healer capable of nursing his sister back to good health. I thought of her for the duration we were here. I made myself work hard so I could hurry to her.

Robb surprised me in how greatly he performed. He even began to understand what herbs mixed together, what created what, and where they should be applied. He would kindly provide poultice for the wounds after my instructions. Though I found myself laughing as he tried to get one of the soldiers to rub the salve on their own chest or certain limb so that he didn't do it for him. I guess he found it odd to touch another man in what most would consider an intimate way. So I ended up doing it for him, just to appease him. He also conversed me throughout, asking questions here and there. After spending so much time with children, I never minded an inquisitive person.

I looked across the tent, observing the men that resided in it. I couldn't help but feel the uneasiness crawl back in my skin all over again since we first entered the camp. I had my wariness; the desires to not work with the militia due to the strife but since I've done it many times, for many years, I could tell when something wasn't right. It was so unbearably unsettling that I had no other choice but to question the procedure here. Nothing felt or even look as it should or even appeared to be once I got a good glimpse and got my thoughts together.

For one, every army—big or small—had a medical personnel on hand. Being as inquisitive and ethical as I am, I repeatedly dared to ask to see the aid that cared for these men before I came. I was annoyed when I received no answers and not a single soul showed up to my tent to present themselves as the medical personnel. I needed to speak with them, about a few cases, for I was unsure on how to go about men that would probably have to lose a limb to stop infections. Some infections were a little out of my knowledge too, but I received no help at all.

Secondly, I could clearly remember the sight of banners with them yesterday. The colors and insignia stuck out as it should, but why did their encampment not have the House Sigil or all the usual decorum for any army under an infamous house that even Robb as well as Jon said they knew of? And what struck me odd again was that they claimed to not even know or heard of this "commander", which was odd since such the Warden and his children of the North should know them. The guards at my tent were even out of place for they seemed to laxed, just simply at unusual ease. What if there was a surprise attack? Surely, these "guards" would not be prepared for it.

If I thought back further, another odd thing that came to mind was the way Commander Vernon seemed rather reluctant to enter the tent of the wounded with her. Not even for a single second could I imagine a man that had lived and breathed war and seen death would be repulsed by the sight of spilled blood and the groans of the men who put their lives out on the line for him.

Something was not right.

It wasn't right at all.

Once I completed my assessment, Austin, Robb, Jon and myself would leave immediately. If those three weren't with me, I would've investigated further. Even if they hadn't come with me, that would cut into her time that would be spent saving their sister, but I wouldn't have been able to just up and leave this place without solving what was so blatantly wrong.

As I stood, swimming in my thoughts, my eyes looked to Jon. He stood near the entrance of the tent with an expression that read of confusion but also caution. He must've had his reservations too and were adding up the things like I had, but he was probably going along with me for her sake; his sister's. Jon seemed like the astute type, which must've been so clear to me due to his calm and brooding persona. Well, he was only calm for when I wasn't at his side and he busied himself with work to not pay me any heed.

Tearing my eyes away from him, and attempting to block him from my thoughts, I finally laid my eyes on the adoring Austin. My feet instinctively carried me to him, "How are you doing?" I made sure that my voice was hushed as I curiously watched him apply a cool cloth to a patient's forehead. Normally a child wouldn't enjoy helping, especially in such a way like this, but it made me wonder if the occupation of a healer really was destined for him.

"Fine." Was his response and his eyes met mine as he gave me his usual toothy smile. "I'm gettin' the hang of this."

I must've looked like a proud mother as I crinkled my eyes and then looked back at the patient, watching Austin at work. "I know you said you weren't hungry before, but you must be now." I said, "It has been quite some time since morning when you last ate."

"I'm not really hungry!" Despite the cheerfulness in his voice, his stomach growled in disagreement. With a sheepish grin in my direction, he retracted. "Okay, well, just a lil'."

My hand found itself combing through his golden, silky locks before giving it a ruffle. I stood up straight and walked to the entrance of the tent, where Jon once was but now was gone. I wonder if he found me offputting again, but I decided that Austin was my main concern. I steadily approached one of the guards, asking for food to be brought to us and daringly made another question for a medical person that was in charge for the patient. My eyes narrowed as I was given no reply, and the man simply walked off. This was really grating on my nerves and testing my patience.

Jon then came back into the tent, making his way towards me with a very troubled expression. The normally shy and distant way about him disappeared all at once then as he leaned forward to speak in my ear. I was shocked, not quite sure why he wanted to enclose such distance to us at first. It was until he spoke in such a way that was a little above a whisper yet still hushed. "We shouldn't stay past nightfall."

My eyes looked up to gaze at his own and he kept a ready focused gaze on me. I tried to read into his expression, to see if I could find his troubles, but I could just see that he didn't trust this place as I hadn't as he kept his lips downturned in a frown. I interlocked my fingers, my thumbs dancing in a circle with one another as I grew worried.

I gave him a simple nod. I wouldn't allow us to stay past nightfall.

 **End POV**

 **:::**

"The woman has made the request again." The guard from the medical tent had said as he entered his commanding officer's.

"Persistent, isn't she?" His eyes glanced from up his map and too the guard as he had a rather eager expression on his face. Although, he was annoyed by how perceptive the woman was and so he sighed. "Well… I guess we must give her what she wants."

Turning to the bound man sitting in the corner, the Commander nodded to the guard. "Untie him." He gave the order.

The Commander's eyes narrowed as the young man was released, and then rubbed his wrist that were sore from how tight the ropes were. "For your sake, I hope you are more knowledgeable about medicine than your skills imply." Vernon stated rather sharply, his eyes glinting with ferocity. "I have appointed a new doctor in your place and they have requested an audience with you."

"Your performance will determine whether I spare your life…" He continued, "Besides… if you are able to fool your replacement as you fooled me, I may even allow you to return to your village, or rather, what's left of it."

The young man hung his head and his body jerked in response to the Commander's cruelty. "Mind your tongue," He heard him say, "… and your manners, as you will be in the presence of a lady. You will be under observation as the two of you converse. One wrong word and you will be cut down right in front of her."

The young man nodded, but kept his head lowered. No one saw his eyes widen in fear as he thought of the doctor waiting. There was only one woman that he knew that may be in this area with such skill. With his head bowed, he prayed that Vernon had not gotten his hands on Amara.

 **:::**

The flap of the medical tent opened, two guards and another man had then entered. Amara had looked to Austin, who was rubbing ointment on a wound that she had cleaned before. The young woman assumed that they had finally brought her the medical personnel that she kept requesting and was quite eager to meet the man so that she can have her questions answered. As she had turned to face them, and Austin did too after his work was done, her face remained stoic but her eyes widened a fraction upon recognizing the young man.

"Oh my…" Adney began speaking right away, "No one warned me that we have such a doctor like you in our presence." His acting was quite good, and it was obvious to Amara that he was. There was definitely something wrong here.

Austin was confused and was about to blow Adney's cover, but he felt Amara place her hand on his shoulder tightly. He looked up at her, her eyes gazing down at him in a silent conversation to remain quiet.

"Thank you, sir." Amara settled, following his lead. "I am sorry to bother you…" She deliberately left the sentence to hang, making things seem as if they were strangers and she had no possible way of knowing his name.

"Adney." He gave her, moving forward eagerly and sighed in relief as he realized she understood the situation at hand. "And… you are?"

"Amara." She gave a simple answer.

Where was his father? He was the true physician. And why was Adney, who had no medical skills nor the interest in medicine, acting in such a position with an army?

"I believe you have questions about some of the men here." He said, rather awkwardly too. "I have to admit my medical experience is somewhat limited."

He couldn't even stand the sight of blood, and he looked green just from being in this tent in the first place. Amara knew she would have to keep up this charade as long as these guards were here, "You've done a fine job." As much as the lie burned her tongue, she kept a straight face. "If you will come with me, I would like your opinion on treatment for three of your men."

As Amara turned, she watched from the corner of her eyes the guards follow close behind. The look Adney sent her prevented her from saying anything about their presence in the medical tent.

Leaning over a patient, the two discussed the case. Adney was amazed that he understood much of what Amara said. It seemed he had learned much from his father; however, Dr. Corwin would never know that.

He and Amara moved on to another case. Looking over his shoulder Adney realized the guards were no longer listening intently as they were before. On hearing Amara request bandages from the young boy at her side, the young man decided to take the chance on delivering a prepared message.

"I'll get them!" He volunteered and ignored the young woman's protest. Moving quickly to the travel satchel containing fresh bandages, Adney reached inside his sleeve and removed a note. Placing the scribe between the layered cloths, he turned and delivered them to Amara.

"That was not necessary, Adney." Amara admonished gently. "Austin is quite capable."

"I do not doubt Austin's abilities, but I would like to be of more use." Her eyes looked at him skeptically, but she said nothing else. They worked together, mostly in silence after that. Once the last patient was done, Adney handed her the stack of unused bandages and claimed fatigue.

"You have put my meager skills to the test, Miss Amara." He smiled and turned to leave with the guards following. "Please… take care of yourself." With a bow of his head, he was gone.

She had wanted to speak with him in private. There were questions she wanted to ask, but she knew he was unable to answer. Turning to Austin, Amara leaned down to hand the child the stack of bandages to return to the satchel. Noticing a note tucked between the layers of cloth, the woman removed and read it silently:

 **"Bandit camp… rogue commander… leave immediately!"**

Amara's face was impassive as she turned and exited the tent. Austin, sensing a change in her demeanor, followed her outside.

"Robb! Jon!" Jon was not here but Robb was, and quickly rose to his feet as he sat by the fire. "I need some more supplies." Her eyes looked up at him and gave him a hard stare as her slender fingers handed him the note. His piercing blue eyes gazed back at her, brows furrowing in confusion until he saw the note and quickly swiped it from her. "Would you please see that I get them as soon as possible? Austin will accompany you." She said and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder to halt the refusal rising to his lips.

After a quick appraisal of what was written, Robb looked at her and then at his brother who soon came to join them and then read the note. Robb couldn't deny her and her head tilted for him to go. Seeing as how there were too many men for them to fight, he knew that it was best to get Austin out of the way for now. "Come on, Austin." His fingers motioned for the blond-haired boy to come, but the boy had trouble wanting to leave Amara's side. "I will return soon." He promised.

That was enough to have Austin silently leave her side.

As she watched them go, Amara now fully realized Vernon's plans. The "Commander" was in much need of someone with medical skills to take care of his warriors. Adney was no where skilled as she was, she was brought here as a replacement. It was assured; she would not be allowed to leave. With a sigh, Amara turned to re-enter the tent. She would worry about herself later; at least Austin would be safe.

 **A Few Hours Later...**

"Austin, Robb, and Jon should've returned by now." The young woman mumbled to herself, rubbing her sore shoulder as she was becoming much concerned now. Her eyes looked down at one of her patients, who was asleep after the medicine she had gave him.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Amara?" One of her other patients asked, but she gave them a rather forced smile and a shake of her head. Moving from her patient, she looked up at the guard that entered the medical tent with a face hard and obviously holding news.

"Commander Vernon would like a status report." He informed her, "Would you please come with me?"

If she declined, she was sure it would look suspicious. Rigidly, she stood as she uncurled and curled her fists and set her jaw. Her eyes looked up at the guard, who patiently waited for her. With a stiff nod, she followed behind him.

It hadn't taken them long, just a few steps as they approached Vernon's tent. There were extra guards posted, she noticed. There were more than how many there were earlier and she immediately thought of Austin and the Starks. Amara inwardly prayed that Robb and Jon had brought Austin back to her village, but for now, she could not give any indication to the commander that she knew the truth.

"Ah… Miss Amara." At least her sleeves were long enough to cover her fists and her throat was taut so she couldn't utter her disgust. Her eyes slowly looked up at the Commander as she fully entered the tent. "Please." He extended his arm, requesting her to have a seat. "Is your assessment complete?"

Tilting her head back, her head held up high, she gave her statement. "It is." She would remain standing, just outwardly refusing his act of kindness. "It should relieve you to know that none of your men need to stay behind, Commander. Their injuries are relatively minor; they should have no trouble traveling."

With a nod and an expression of gratitude, he said. "Splendid." His eyes then looked up to her with an odd look in them that made her feel more angry and even more so uncomfortable. "Since your task is finished, won't you share a light supper with me?"

With a rather hesitant smile, she gave a shake of her head in refusal. "I'm sorry, but I must decline." Neither was she sorry and nor would she ever accept his offer under any circumstances.

"And may I ask, why not?" The rough edge in his voice did not go unnoticed, and nor did the way his dark eyes glittered dangerously. "You make a habit of refusing my generosity, Miss Amara." He wasn't in his mode of hospitality as he tried to portray minutes ago. "Am not quite sure how I should feel about that."

With an elegant snort, she replied in kind. "I fail to see of why you should feel anything." Her voice was eerily calm, "I was not called here to socialize, Commander. I had a duty to perform; it is done and I only await the additional supplies for your aid… I believe his name was Adney. Once they are delivered, we will leave."

The man had threw his head back, a bark of laughter escaping his throat, which slightly alerted her. "My… you are a cold one," With a smirk, he moved closer to what he believed was a bold yet enchanting woman. "I had only hoped to get better acquainted with you. Perhaps," He continued, "… we can be of assistance to each other."

Amara kept herself silent, and because of her silence, Vernon decided to explain since he felt she didn't quite understand. "A soldier's life is very demanding. The majority of our time is spent on the road, wherever battle takes us. How nice it would be to have someone to spend a few pleasurable hours with during leave. I was thinking, Miss Amara," Her brow raised at this attempt of him being sly, "… that you would oblige me. You would be greatly compensated."

It took everything in her power, within her, to keep her voice emotionless as she inquired. "Are you suggesting a tryst of some sort?"

Inwardly, Vernon smiled. Such a reasonable woman, or so he thought. Comfortable that she would accept his offer, he answered with a smug, "Yes."

"I find your offer insulting." Her tone was flat, but Amara seethed inside. Her face and voice remained impassive and the commander was unsure whether she was jesting or playing hard to get.

"Miss Amara…" Before he could utter another word, he was interrupted by her detached voice.

"I would not mention this again, Commander," Amara said. "The services you require can be obtained in any brothel by any whore. I will bid goodbye."

Without bowing, Amara turned to leave the tent. As she pulled back the flap to exit, Vernon's voice stopped her cold.

"I am sorry that you are repulsed by my offer. However, it makes no difference. I shall have what I want."

Amara frowned, but refrained from feeding into his delusions. Stepping outside, she froze and her eyes widened, the only indication of her fear. Robb laid on the ground, his hands tied behind his back, but there was no sign of Jon nor Austin.

Dr. Corwin and other villagers that must've came for her aid were tied to a nearby tree and under guard. Turning to Vernon, it took everything within Amara to keep her voice neutral as she inquired.

"The boy?"

Vernon nodded to one of his men, a path opened up and Amara saw Austin escorted through the throng of men. He appeared unharmed, but his clothes were torn and dirty. They had neglected to tie him up and inwardly the raven-haired woman smiled. They would soon learn their mistake.

"Are you all right, Austin?" She asked, showing her obvious concern as the boy looked at her with a smile. He looked relieved as if he worried that she would be harmed.

"Yes." Was Austin's reply, "Are _you_ alright?" The anger she detected in his voice made her smile outwardly as she gave him a nod in reply.

"It is not my intention to hurt the boy, Miss Amara," Vernon said with a smug look. "That is… as long as I can have the pleasure of your company."

He paused, allowing her time to weigh her options, which he knew were non-existent. Even in defeat, the woman was magnificent. There was no sign of defeat in her demeanor. She stood tall, her shoulders thrown back and her expression dignified. How he would enjoy taming that spirit and he looked forward to tonight.

"You are my honored guest, Miss Amara." Vernon said, feeling quite triumphant. "I will even allow the child to join us, but only for dinner." The latter added for her ears alone. "Come." He offered and held the tent flap for them to enter.

Her eyes looked down at Robb, who seemed unharmed for the most part. He gave her a rather smug smile and she could tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he was not admitting to defeat. If he had a will such as that then Amara would not have to worry for him. "Now come!" Vernon's voice was much forceful this time. It was obvious he was annoyed by her lack of movement.

He turned back to her as the guards pushed Austin forward. Attempting to drape his arm across Amara's shoulders, Vernon gave her a lecherous grin as the woman moved out of range. His arm fell limply to his side and he whispered to her as she walked by.

"This plans to be an interesting evening."

 **:::**

Dark blue eyes scanned over the variety of foods; she found that they were passable and the water was quite fresh. The only problem was the wine, and even the ale, were laced with a plant that was often used as a sedative. She wanted to hit him sharply with the back of her hand at how much of a fool he took her for. How could he fool her with her knowledge of herbal medicine and concoctions? She was alerted of it from the smell alone. He really did take her for a fool and obviously a whore. Vernon was very much persistent in offering the wine, which he dumbly never drank himself and that she made her refuse him even more.

"I was never much of a drinker." She said coolly.

Austin sat beside her, and she allowed him to eat sparingly as she did. He didn't trust the foods either at first but that was to be expected since he didn't trust anyone but her, Robb, and Jon in the first place now after what was happening.

Amara had not eaten anything since that morning herself; they would both need their strength before this night was over. Her demeanor was one of capitulation; however, Vernon would soon discover he had a formidable adversary.

Unbeknownst to the fake commander, Amara and Austin had formulated a plan. What appeared as a motherly figure comforting a frightened child were actually illustrations drawn in the boys palms and whispered words as they hugged. A lot of responsibility was placed with Austin once he was removed from the tent, but Amara had faith in his abilities.

The healer also had the opportunity to scan the confined area and was relieved to find enough space for her weapon that was tucked neatly behind her under her cloak. With her main concern being Austin, Jon, Robb, and the villagers, Amara had not quite completed plans for her own escape.

"It is time, Miss Amara," Vernon spoke, which made her want to roll her eyes as he called for the one of his men. "Take the child with the others." He ordered as a guard entered the tent.

"Please, Commander…" Austin said meekly. "I would like to see if Robb is well."

There was no hesitation in Vernon's voice as he agreed. A child was no threat to his plans. As the boy rose to leave, he watched Amara put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze before he left.

"Very touching." Vernon quietly acknowledged, as he slid closer to his would-be victim.

Amara forced herself to remain calm and still. She felt his hands in her hair as he loosened the ribbon that kept it tied and pulled at it until it freed her hair.

"Such lovely hair…" The Commander said softly, "I like it much better this way."

"You mentioned compensation." Amara stated in a business like tone, halting his hand from stroking her ebony locks.

Vernon's eyes widened in surprise and then he laughed heartily. "I knew it!" He grinned, "You are an intelligent woman." He rose to his feet, moved to a corner and pulled out a chest. Returning to her side, he opened it to reveal various gems and gold pieces.

"The ruby is most becoming." He said with a nod, "However… I have something even better." With that said, he moved to open another trunk and withdrew a silk robe in the palest yellow. "I would _love_ to see you wearing this."

"Why does that not surprise me." Amara snorted, but took the offered garment. "I require privacy."

"Is that really necessary?" The leer he gave her made her want to cringe. "Under the circumstances, your modesty is pointless."

"That may be true." She drawled rather stoically, "However, it is _my_ request."

Appropriate words; spoken with authority. The woman used no feminine wiles nor displayed the usual coquettish behavior of her sex. Nor did she whine or coax to get her way, which only served to increase the tightening in the man's loins.

To obtain the unattainable, was the Commander's thought as he looked Amara over. Her aloof demeanor only made him desire her more and anticipate their coupling, Vernon felt he could be generous.

"I will wait outside." He gave a stiff nod. "But… I would not take too long," Was a warning he issued. "I am not, by nature, a patient man."

With those words, Vernon left the tent.

 **:::**

Austin had finally found Robb and told him the plans that Amara and himself made to escape. Adney watched, amused in the distance of how the blond-haired boy trusted this unknown man rather heavily. The plan was good, and it just might work. He watched as the boy had threw bits of a powder like substance over the fire and his eyes widened as the flames took life of their own. The child added more to make the heat stoke upward and the tent was set ablaze.

Feeling the heat, he signaled Adney to move out but held tight to Robb, who was still tied up. The two men tumbled outside as Austin, hearing approaching footsteps from the front, laid on the ground and escape from an opening created at the rear. Once he was outside, the boy threw more powder to feed the flames. In no time at all, all four tents had caught fire and the child continued his mission.

He had bags of powder already made at one of the tents, which was enough to cause an explosion. First, Austin cut into Robb's ropes with a dagger that Robb told him was in his boot and then set him free and then did the same to Adney before returning the dagger to the Stark. Robb made it his mission to help Jon and the villagers while Adney would distract some of the guards.

Austin made his way towards the powdered filled tent and Adney watched as the boy played the role of an afraid child rather well. When guards appeared towards him, he knew he would have to play a role himself. "Where is the kid?" One of the guards yelled.

"I-I think he's trapped inside!" He shouted with mock panic, his hands in hair. "I-I got the old man out, but when I went back for the b-boy… I… I… couldn't find him."

"Hurry!" Another guard shouted.

"Fill the buckets with water! Now!"

The guards scattered about and Adney followed the direction Robb went with the other soldiers.

The Commander undoubtedly heard the commotion, "What in the hell is going on?!" He demanded.

The smell of smoke wafted in his nostrils heavily, making him choke as he was waiting for the woman to disrobe. Hurrying through the encampment, he came upon his men trying to put the fire out.

"One of the tents caught fire, Commander, and it's spreading rapidly." Vernon closed his eyes tightly, his jaw squeezing shut as he was informed of the news.

Looking out over the chaos, Vernon saw the flames were indeed spreading. Based on the wind that was fanning the flames, "How the hell did this happen?" He asked himself. "Where did it originate from?"

"The tent with the prisoners." His second-in-command answered. "Adney and the other man escaped, but they could not find the little boy. We believe he perished in the fire."

"Dammit!" Vernon muttered. How would his evening with Amara would even play out? She wouldn't dare be remotely interested since that boy was dead. His mind kept thinking of the woman, who he believed was still waiting for him in his tent.

"You will notify the woman, of course."

"Yes," Vernon smirked, "I'll tell her tomorrow."

There was a pregnant pause and the rogue commander felt his men's eyes on him. However, they kept silent and no one disputed him.

At the first explosion, Vernon felt obligated to delay his pleasures until things were under control.

Grinning, Austin knew he had obtained his goal. Recalling the illustrations Amara had written in his palms, the boy moved quickly away from the anticipated explosion and in the direction of Robb and the others.

He worried about the healer, but he would follow her instructions. Once he and the villagers were together again, they would figure out a way to free her.

The soldier's voices were heard in the distance and Austin no longer felt the heat from the fire. The air was cool, indicating the sun had set as the child moved steadily ahead.

Suddenly, he felt a presence. Standing completely still, the boy held his breath waiting to be discovered. "It seems you have outdone yourself, Austin." whispered Amara. "I thought I said a small fire."

"Miss Amara!" The boy gasped.

"Sshhh!" She hurried towards him. "Come on… the others are waiting." She informed him and grabbed his hand to pull him after her.

"How did you get away?" Austin asked, squeezing her hand tightly out of relief that she still lived.

Amara did not answer. She wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible. While inside of Vernon's tent, she had waited patiently. On hearing the call about the fire, she remained until she heard the commander move away to investigate.

Once she got to the opening, she peering outside to see everyone was involved in putting out the flames. No one paid heed as she strolled casually outside and met with Jon, Robb, and the others by the tall tree on the outskirts.

One of the villagers had taken a horse and now traveled swiftly to the nearest outpost to notify them of Vernon's forces and his impersonation of a military official.

Giving the signal to move out, Amara's small group silently left the camp.

 **:::**

Vernon was furious.

Nothing really made much sense to him as he had yet to figure out the others made their escape. Not only were the villagers and the two young men were gone, but Adney disappeared as well.

It seemed his night's pleasure would be interrupted anyway. He was sure someone from a nearby village would come out to investigate an explosion and the rolls of smoke filling the night sky. They had to relocate and quickly.

Leaving orders with his men to prepare to leave the encampment, Vernon turned and headed back to his tent. On entering, he found it empty. The chest of jewels was still there and the silk robe was thrown carelessly in a corner.

Amara was gone.

Instead of panicking, Vernon thought long and hard. The fire, he deduced, was deliberate. It was created to cause a distraction for the villagers escape, but how did it spread so quickly?

It was also clear that Adney was involved. After dragging the old man from the fire, he had seen the young man helping the soldiers put out the fire. He thought it strange at first, but dismissed the thought, believing he was hoping to save the child trapped inside.

With the flames now under control, one of the guards entered Vernon's tent and gave his report. "Commander," The man bowed, "the prisoners have escaped. There is no sign of the villagers or Adney."

"Gather about twenty men." Vernon informed his guard. "They will accompany me in pursuing our runaway guest. The others will finish things here and head south into the next province. We shall meet later."

Now mounted on his horse and in battle gear, Vernon and twenty men went in search of his prey. Although he seethed inside, the commander could not help but admire Amara's strategy. The woman had probably planned their escape while sitting right in front of him and he considered Adney as her accomplice.

Adney had been useful to them, but now he would kill him. He will kill him, the child, the young men that accompanied Amara, and the entire village will suffer.

"They could not have gone far." One of the scout informed him, ending the future plan. "They have two of our horses, the rest are on foot."

The horse Amara used was missing and Vernon realized one rider might have gone to the nearest outpost. This woman called Amara had been very thorough.

Digging his heels into his mount's side, the pseudo-commander and his troops increased their pace. "Kill the others, but leave the woman to me!" Vernon shouted. Either Amara would succumb to his desires or she would be killed.

 **:::**

 **Jon's POV**

On our journey back to the village, we rode in silence but it was nothing like the awkwardness as it was before but it was still tense. I was relieved, in fact I believe everyone was, as we were trying to get over what just happened. Never would I believe that House Long's army had been taken over by bandits and then they tried to act as normal soldiers and did a good job at first. There were things out of place though that made me realize that something wasn't all quite clear but I usually denied my suspicions as me overthinking. I think I'm quite good at that; overthinking that is. I slowly set my eyes on Miss Amara, who was gingerly letting her fingers swim through the boy's golden hair. The look on her eyes seemed to tell me that she was overjoyed that the boy was unharmed and showed such bravery in such a situation that could've had him killed. It was hard to believe that this little firestarter who enjoyed the woman's affections was the same one who burned down a bandit camp with just powder and great acting alone. Right now, he looked just like a regular boy with a smile that revealed his dimples so clear.

The look on the healer's face was the look I hoped to see on Lady Catelyn. Although she and I never got along, I longed to see her smiling and at peace as she gazed at her children and not the torn and defeated shell that worried day and night for her young. Even though I was just a bastard to her, a child that her loving husband stepped out of the marriage to have and would not get rid of, I still wished her well. Was that just foolish thinking? Maybe or maybe because I yearned for that motherly affection that I seen her give my siblings and what the healer was giving young Austin. How these two will part? I was unsure, but I was glad that we found her. If she could give such children care without being of the same blood, she would be passionate about saving my little sister.

"This was the last thing I expected," Robb's voice tore me loose from my thoughts, "when we went out on our search for a healer." He was breaking the silence, a half of a smile tugging at his lips. He was good at making the mood good again and I could tell that it working because I was feeling a lot better myself.

Miss Amara turned to look at Robb, seemingly grateful for his words but also looking quite contrite. For what? Only the Gods knew, but I was hoping she would shed light for why she wore such an expression. "I apologize," She said. "I apologize that the both of you got caught up in this." Her eyes gazed down at the ground, "I'm sorry your sister must suffer a little whiles longer for my foolishness."

I felt nothing that would resemble hatred or anger for Miss Amara. I wasn't sure why she felt the need to apologize and in an odd way, I wanted to comfort her. "You weren't the only fool." I said, unsure if my words were helping or worsening things. "We were too," I threw Robb in, "we knew House Long and we had no clue."

She seemed surprised, and I couldn't blame her. I hadn't been well spoken with her and I tried to avoid her as much as I possibly could. I've grown tired of making a fool of myself to women and I did not want her to suffer the same fate as others had. Not only that, I didn't want to hear nor see another woman laughing at me because I wasn't as bold with women as my brother and Theon were.

Robb then spoke up again, "At least we'll go to our sister in the morning. I can't imagine us leaving for Winterfell right after this... ordeal."

The healer nodded as did I. I wanted nothing more to lay down and get a good night's rest before journeying back home, which I certainly missed right about now. However, my thoughts of a comfortable night had ended as we all became frozen once our ears picked up on the sound of hooves that weren't our own. The horses ran fast, there were a whole lot of them based on the fact alone.

"Get down!" I heard Miss Amara shout, and instinctively everyone did. We didn't know what we were ducking from but when I caught the sight of arrows sailing through the air, I was amazed that she had sensed or probably heard it. When the assault was over, we all sat up and seen that arrows had embedded their sharp ends into the trees.

"Miss Amara, get out of here!" My brother warned her, "We'll handle them." He looked to me and I knew that he thought we should handle the bandits head on. Our swords were now unsheathed, in tight grips of our hands, as we reared our horses to face the incoming bandits.

The healer, however, did not seem well adjusted to our plan. "Are you out of your mind?!" She yelled, "I can't just—" That abrupt stop, that hesitance, I knew it was because she realized Austin was with her. The woman would choose his safety first, and when I glanced over, I watched as she eyed him with uncertainty.

I didn't give her time to choose or rethink, I slapped the rear of her horse and they were sent flying ahead. She turned to look at me, eyes narrowed in anger that I knew was not towards me but to herself. I gave her a half smile, assuring her that Robb and I wouldn't die here.

We were greeted by the bandits, swords of their own drawn and we engaged in heated battle. The clanging of metal against metal cut through the air as well as the sound of men being cut down, blood splattering every which way. I've never fought on horseback before and I found it quite troubling as my horse did not enjoy it. He hardly wanted to stay still and allow me to knock some of these bandits off, and it even allowed Vernon an escape, slipping through with a few of his men.

Robb and I, as well as some of the villagers that stayed behind to find with us, were too locked in to follow after him immediately. I grimaced as I knew I couldn't let him get away for who knows what he might do once he found Miss Amara. None of us were fools, we understood by his actions and suggestions that he desired the woman and it was quite clear that she had no desire for him.

Once I freed myself but let my sword sail through the air and pierce through the center of a bandit before me, I turned to Robb. "I'm going after the Commander."

"I would much prefer if you didn't." He said, eyes too busy locked in struggle as he and a bandit were at a standoff, trying to overpower one another. "Leave him to me."

If I had done that then who knows how many more bandits would come? I was a well equipped fighter and I was sure I could protect Miss Amara and Austin. I looked at him, not wanting to defy him, but then I rode off and I could hear him yelling my name as I moved further and further way.

I aimed for the stealth route; taking out as many men as I could quietly while he seemed too focused on Miss Amara. I listened in, hearing every word, but being steady on not alerting him as I covered the mouths of his soldiers as I pierced my sword through their backs with the sharp end sticking out from their chest.

Torches burned bright in the air for it was dark and hard to see without them. I could see the flames illuminate the woman's face as her eyes stormed like the rocky waves of a mighty ocean in the midst of a thunderstorm. "You are a very troublesome woman, Amara." The smile on the man's face was sinister, almost like it was splitting his face. "I hope you are worth the chaos you created."

She hadn't noticed me, and if she did then she did well not to alert Vernon of my presence. I kept cutting the numbers down until I could inch my way clearly towards the commander.

Stepping forward, Miss Amara breathed out. "I will come with you," She offered, "if you let the others go."

"No!" Austin's cry was loud, and filled with anger.

"You, my lady," Vernon, from what I could tell, was certainly enjoying having the upper hand, "are in no position to bargain." His eyes then closed, a look of thought in his face. "But… I find it oh so very hard to resist your request." Extending his hand, he offered it to the healer. "Come. I will allow the others to live; you, Miss Amara, just need to come to me."

"He lies!" Austin yelled vehemently, moving to stand in front of Amara. "He's a liar!" He shook his head, his anger rising. "She will not go with you!" He lashed out.

It hadn't mattered.

I became so close that my sword could cleanly go through the man's throat, protruding from the other side as the sound of flesh being cut and blood gurgling in his throat filled the air. The woman's hands had covered Austin's eyes as she boldly stared at Vernon's lifeless form, which fell off the horse when I pulled out the blade. I had looked at the two, Miss Amara's hand not shielding his eyes any longer and the two looked at me. I gave them a hesitant smile, but stopped when Robb came up to ride up next to me. "I told you I wanted to kill him." I wasn't sure if he was actually angry or jesting me now. "But good job," he then gave a shrug, "not sure if I care for the dramatics though."

"I just wanted him to stop talking." I simply said as we rode closer to them before dismounting our horses. "Are you all right?" I hesitantly asked the woman, feeling quite nervous under her gaze. A small smile formed on her lips and she gave me a nod. "Are you…" my throat instantly felt dry as I then forced myself to cough to clear it, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure." She reassured me as she then looked down at Austin, who was gazing up at me.

"That was pretty cool." The boy praised me, which made me quite unsure of why the boy would think the brutal and bloody act was cool. "He deserved it. The wanker…" Robb snorted, humored by the child. I looked at him, brow raised in surprise, as Amara gave him a scowl. "Sorry." He apologized to her.

My eyes then look up to the woman, who was looking down at the dead rogue commander. I wondered why there was a hint of sadness in her eyes at the sightof him, but I supposed it was because it was in her nature to take life as a healer. They help prolong it, not end it.

For the time, I found myself regretting my choice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Never will I, never have I, and never will I in the future own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones.

 **Author's Note** : So many faves and follows! And thank you for the reviews, they make me happy. But yes, this is sometimes before the actual beginning of the show and I can't answer some of these questions since they are surprises. / shift eyes ) But! I hope you guys like where I go with this Arya "illness" arc.

* * *

 **Amara's POV**

I hadn't expected morning to come so fast, but it came as it normally did. As promised, I would go with Robb and Jon to their home to rid their little sister from what ailed her. I had to say my goodbyes to the village I stayed for a couple months in. And just like all goodbyes, my heart felt heavy and my chest felt empty as it ached. These would be faces I would probably never see again, but I expected this because I knew I couldn't stay in this village forever. This was what I normally did; I stayed for a while and then I left, but I wasn't as strong as I was before. I had grown unnecessarily attached to the people of this village. I would miss them greatly.

Corwin, the physician I stayed with, very much wanted me to stay. He held my hands in his, nearly pleading that I not leave. I was glad that he understood from my gaze alone for he knew well enough that I would never ignore a call from the ailing, especially a child's. He praised me; telling me that my expertise in medicine was just what the child needed and he would continue his work with me in his prayers. He also said he would miss me and hope the valuable things we learned from one another would continue to be used. Of course, I could never forget the skill of stitching he helped me learned.

Adney, I was sad to leave him as well. He had become something like a friend to me and I found myself well aware that I would miss his awkwardness and his rambles of facts I had not known. He was a smart man and much more suited for something other than being a farmer, but you could not change what people loved. He had came rushing to me when he heard of my departure and like Corwin, he wanted me to change my mind. His father explained to him that he well enough knew my devotion to children and so it was unnecessary and unfair to talk me out of this task. I saw the look of guilt on his face and I eased him with simple words of gratitude and thankfulness that he would miss my company so.

His hands grabbed my shoulders, firmly, and he pressed his lips to my cheek. I was finally aware of Adney's feelings: the odd glances, the stuttering his speech, and the sometimes red tints of his cheeks from his constant staring. It puzzled me why he had any romantic feelings towards me in the first place. I could not help but gingerly touch my cheek, feeling the area that he kissed warm to touch. I slowly lifted my eyes to face him, embarrassed to do so before, as I tried to look at him as tenderly as possible. I did not know how to feel or what to do, but I simply thanked him instead. If I thought a life with him would be well worth it then I would return from my task from Winterfell.

Despite all of this, everything was not well with my departure. I was painfully aware that I would have to say farewell to Austin but an unfortunate circumstance changed that. The boy's father had died in his sleep. He was riddled with a disease that came from a small illness but when I arrived, he was in the darker stages and I could not cure him. All I could do was relieve his aches and I felt saddened that such a kind man had died so soon. He left a letter for me, stating that he believed he foreseen his time to leave the world. He asked me—begged actually—to take care of his son for him. He knew how fond Austin was of me and knew I could provide and love the boy until he was old enough to take care of himself. I cared for the boy, deeply so, that even if it wasn't his father's dying wish, I would take the boy as my own.

Austin cried, heavily, and I hated the way his body trembles with his sobs. The boy was always happy and cheerful, giving me smiles left and right, but to see him so filled with grief had made my heart twist. I held him and comforted him, telling him to cry as long as he wanted. We had a ceremony for his father, burying him under the tree by his home. His wife was next to him and so I knew that he would be glad that his final resting place would be there and Austin could come visit them whenever he wished. The villagers decided to create headstones for them out of love. Robb and Jon had stayed behind and also offered words to comfort for Austin as well. I was grateful and I knew that I could not let their sister wait any longer.

It was early afternoon now. I rode on Jon's horse while Austin was riding on Robb's. It seemed the boy would not drown himself in his grief right now, and instead decided to push his pain by distraction. He asked Robb of many things, mainly of Winterfell. I was more than glad that Robb had the patience to indulge him and answered every question Austin asked. I smiled and stayed silent while shifting quite uncomfortably since I was not used to being in such a position. Never had I been in such close proximity of a man like this and I found it all the more awkward since I've only met the man yesterday. I wasn't brave to speak like Austin, I hardly ever spoke when it did not pertain to my curiosity. I just simply stayed basked in the silence between Jon and I.

He hadn't spoke to me or attempted to do so during our ride. I was comfortable with it because I had use of it. I used the quiet to let my eyes observe him, taking in his features at this closeness since I could only peer up at him from over his shoulder. I found myself transfixed on the physical features of the young man since I could not try to get know him since neither of us spoke. I drank in with my eyes that he had relatively long, thick eyelashes and his eyes were similar to mine. I thought they were black but upon close inspection they were a darkish grey. My eyes appeared dark too, but you could see their blueness up close. I always thought my eyes were strange but I was glad to know that despite the difference in color, my eyes weren't the only ones that were like this.

His face was long and smooth, free of scars but even if he had any I doubted they could take away the boyish charm that his face held. His hair was nearly black, also like mine, but while mine refused to curl, his was filled with them. I wasn't sure why I was fascinated by the contrasts of our hair or why I wanted to touch it, but I was a woman of self control and so I kept my eyes staring and my hands awkwardly holding the sides of his tunic. I then couldn't help but wonder why I was having such a hard time figuring out the age difference between he and I as well as him and his brother. They both looked young, maybe the same name day as I or maybe even younger or even older than I.

"Is there something troubling you, Miss Amara?" To say I was caught off guard would be an understatement, I nearly flinched at the sudden sound of his voice. I found my eyes widening too, which would remind one of a doe being stalked. Quickly, I regained control of my expression and became stoic just in time his eyes met mine.

I felt stilled by his stare but I braved through and spoke as eloquently as I knew I could. "Nothing troubles me." I said, or more like lied in all honesty. I kept my eyes fixated on him to pretend that I was telling the truth, but my grips on the side of his tunic dared to tighten, which could've gave me away. "I was just thinking… " I strained my lips to perk upwards, "I was just thinking that when I reached your home, Winterfell, I would have to call you and your brother by your formalities than just your given names." Grateful of my fast thinking, I continued, "I apologize for overstepping my boundaries by saying your names in such a way." Although it was a lie, I had thought about this before and that's why my mind immediately used it as a scapegoat. I could no longer say their names comfortably, and neither could Austin.

He produced a smile, his eyes no longer staring back at mine as he found new interest of the road before us. "There's no reason for you to give me one for I don't have one." I wasn't all that sure what he meant about that and I found myself reasonably confused. Raising a brow, I looked at him in hopes to be given an answer. "I am a bastard; I hold no title. You don't have to worry about me for anything, Miss Amara."

I was surprised that I did not feel shocked. I… I just did not know how to feel about his admittance, honestly. Whether or not if he was trueborn or baseborn did not bother me, at all. I trusted this man to a degree and I think I could confidently say I liked him well enough as a person from what I've known of him in this small span of time we spent together. He saved my life and although we hadn't talked much, I found his overall presence oddly comforting.

I suppose you could say I felt sorry for him since I knew well enough about what bastard children had gone through in Westeros. I may have not been born here but I had lived here since I was fifteen name days, and I knew that bastard children would inherit nothing from their father's ( or mother's ). It would all go their trueborn children, which I could only assume would be Robb and the rest of their siblings that were from the wife since I had not been told how many of them there were and if the other's were bastards like him. Since he had not mentioned any of the others being like him, I could only assume he was the only one.

I found my eyes slowly shifting to look at Robb as I thought of all this. I watched him, laughing as his bright eyes glinted with amusement of whatever Austin was speaking with him about. Robb had no worries while Jon had so _many_. I could not help but pity Jon, which I surely knew he would not want from me. So I swallowed my pity and pretended as if I had never felt it, for his sake.

My lips parted, ushering out these words: "That does not mean I will treat you any differently, Jon." I said, shifting my focus back onto him. "It does not matter to me; whether you're a bastard or not."

I was riddled on why he seemed so quizzical by my words. He was bug-eyed and his body was as stiff as a plank of wood against me. I blinked several times in my confusion before looking down at the empty and small space between he and I. Maybe he was used to distance because of how he was born? I couldn't help but wonder and found myself unreasonably curious. I was curious if he wasn't used to anyone not caring of his birthright; that seemed silly since I was just a simple healer. My opinion should mean little to nothing, especially to the likes of him.

 **End POV**

 **:::**

They were nearing the walls of Winterfell, but during the trip, Amara settled for a nap with her forehead resting on Jon's back. He was surprised by the quantity of trust she felt with them ( or for him particularly ) but was also moved that she had found comfort of the wall of his back. He wondered if the woman slept well after the night they been through and he could only assume that she hadn't. If she felt tired enough to take time to rest in the afternoon during their ride, then surely the woman did not get much sleep. He had seen Robb raising a questionable brow at the woman's sleeping state and his eyes looked to Jon as if to ask him how felt about it or more like tease him. Jon kept himself quiet for he knew how his brother was all too well. If he spoke anything about it, he'd twist his words and say something that would make him uncomfortable and probably would make Amara feel insulted.

Austin rested too, and fell asleep a little time before Amara had. Due to the night and morning he had, it was understandable to know the boy was just plain weary. He could've been killed by bandits last night, he left his village after losing his father, and now his life would forever be changed for he would be raised a woman he grew to care for in the span of two months. Although the last bit seemed quite nice and good for him, it still did not wash over the agony of losing a parent; his only parent at that. Robb also had no qualms of letting the boy sleep on him, even going as far to say that Austin reminded him of Rickon despite the boy should very much be Bran's age.

The gate had opened upon their arrival as they made their way towards the inner wall, and that was enough to awake Amara because of the sounds and constant echoing of noise. Her eyes, blurred from sleep, had looked around until she rubbed them for better vision and stifled out a quiet yawn. Jon slowly looked over his shoulder, seeing her eyes immediately drinking in the sights of the castle since she missed much of Winter town. He could see the look of awe in her eyes since she kept the rest of her face quite impassive. The woman could impressively mask her expressions well, which seemed like a trait all the Starks had themselves. Never could he know what the woman was thinking, and he knew that was her objective.

Austin woke up too, possibly stirred awake from the sounds like her. "Are we there yet?" The boy asked, rubbing his eye rather lazily as his yawn rattled his small body.

"Yes, we are." Robb answered him, giving the boy a small smile as the blond nodded sluggishly. Amara did not seem bothered by the many eyes that stared at her as people lined up to greet the Starks upon their return. Once they were comfortably in, the gates now closing behind them, Robb climbed off his horse first, picking up Austin and settling him down his feet. Jon did the same but Amara climbed down on her own, ushering away Jon's help. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but seeing as she simply told him that she didn't want to bother him and immediately apologized for using him as a pillow, he quickly smile and dismissed her apologies. Instead of accepting that she didn't want any help, he had taken her large satchel filled with herbs and other medical material to carry for her. Amara was about to argue about it, but the look in his eyes made her lips silent.

Jon and Robb gazed at one another, knowing that they could not turn back now but they seemed all to sure in putting their faith in her. Amara smoothed out her dress, adjusting her cloak before feeling Austin's small hand take hers and holding it tight once she was finished with her quick grooming. He didn't seem afraid, he seemed too much in awe of the place to be, but she could tell that he was nervous from the slight shaking of his hand. Austin always pretended to be brave and even spoke of words of protecting her as if he could take anyone on with his small size. _'Men.'_ That was all Amara could think in response of his actions.

The voice that spoke to them was deep and strong, astoundingly demanding attention as well as alerted you of its presence. Amara felt Austin jolt at the sudden sound, but Amara felt no reason to fear from the very masculine voice. "You've found a healer already?" There was a hint of disbelief but a small surge of pride. Desperately, Amara tried to stand on the tip of her toes to peer over Jon's shoulders, and with enough effort she had then met the steel grey pupils of the man who spoke and walked towards them.

Robb nodded, speaking instead. "Yes, Father." He then turned to glance at the healer, his voice orotund. "She comes from a small village in the valley not too far. She specializes in healing children, but Jon and I have seen her for ourselves and she has done astounding work."

She did not miss that he failed to mention the bandits, but she supposed that was a good thing. Instead, Amara decided to stand firm with her back straight and shoulders squared before giving the Lord of Winterfell with such height, broad shoulders, and intimidating eyes a polite curtsy. His dark hair swiftly waved with the sudden blow of wind as his eyes seemed to stare at her, surveying her rather dubiously. It didn't offend her for he was the Warden of the North and should be rightfully wary of anyone that came close to his children. He should be hesitant; any loving parent would. That was why she had not taken offense nor bother to care about the murmurers and prying eyes that watched her since she entered.

Her eyes looked back at him, not in defiance, but in waves of patience and hopefulness. She did not give him a smile nor a frown, her mouth simply remained a thin line as she kept a rather blank face. If he was trying to read her, he would find nothing. She was not an open book, she was guarded and had been that way for many years. Upon realizing and discovering this, he merely smirked before closing his eyes and finally giving them a nod. "Come." He demanded then and they all followed. Austin kept his grip on her hand tight with no intentions of letting go, and she had done the same.

The walk was quiet as they entered the castle and Amara was amazed by how cozily warm it was inside. The chill of the breeze outside was quickly gone now. Even though it tried to follow them upon the opening of the entrance, it died immediately. She couldn't help but wonder how could a large castle such as this be so comfortably warm. Amara decided to not keep picking her brain at the reason since she could not come up with a proper answer. She then forced herself to not be childlike and take in the beauty of the castle within and kept her eyes staring at the back of the Lord Stark before her as she followed his wake down the corridors. Austin did as any child would do and "oohed" and "ahhed" at anything that amazed him. Robb was tickled by his reaction, and Jon was too.

Jon walked to her left, occasionally glancing at her whenever he was well aware she could not notice. It almost frustrated him how he couldn't tell what she was feeling or thinking since she kept that mask over her face. Robb did the same, he too wondering how she was dealing, but he found nothing; not even a clue or even a hint in her eyes. The walk just remained silent, Amara didn't even try to sing praises of herself like a normal person would've done to a lord. She just remained quiet, not feeling the need to plead her case or make their father any less doubtful of her skills. He mainly did not question her because he figured Catelyn would and also because he believed in the judgement of his sons. It also could've been the fact that he was desperate for Arya too, and the sight of Austin might've calmed him as well.

Once they reached Arya's room door, Eddard opened it but did not move. He stood at the door, blocking them from sight of Arya and all that were within, and looked at his wife. She hadn't left the girl's side at all and that was to be expected. Even now, she was making another prayer wheel of the Seven for her youngest daughter. Eddard eyes glistened sadly at the sight but then washed it with a look of seriousness, "Cat."

Catelyn stopped the weaving on the wheel, her body frozen from all movement. Her head turn, blue eyes staring up at her husband from over her shoulder. Her eyes widened some, reading the look in his eyes. "A healer has come?" She inquired.

He gave a nod in confirmation before stepping in the room, allowing Robb, Jon, Amara, and Austin to walk in. Because she was used to it, Amara held no ill feelings by the immediate look of shock and skepticism on Catelyn's face. Her eyes even narrowed slightly as if she desperately could not believe that a woman such as her was a healer. Amara found it likely that the woman would attack her credentials; it happened before, so why not again? Her appearance alone was enough to make anyone not trust her. Despite the fact she never faced such quick judgement across the seas, she knew that the people of Westeros were just not used to her prominent features.

" _Her_?" She spoke, doubt laced in her voice. It all sounded like an accusation but Amara remained not offended, " _You_ , Miss, are a _healer_?"

Her dark blue eyes slowly looked up to meet Catelyn's own bright ones and her head moved in a slow nod. "Aye." She said softly, "Indeed I am, Lady Stark."

It struck her odd that the girl did not try to explain herself; no ramblings, no bragging. Nothing but a simple yes and a formality was all she was given. Catelyn did not for a second believe that her son would just pick any woman or anyone for that matter to do the job. Robb loves Arya and so she knew that he would choose someone he believed that could do it. Jon? Jon claimed to love Arya, and she was—as much as she did not like to admit it—sure that he was even more sure to pick who he believed the right one. Despite knowing all of this, the woman rightfully had her reservations. How could she trust a woman donned all in black, eyes as blue and dark as the bottom of the sea, as a person that could save her daughter? The woman looked like death. Hell, she even dared walked in the room with such purposeful strides. Why was her countenance of regalness? It was off putting by a large margin.

Jon could more than definitely feel, practically bathe in, the tension that filled the room. After all, he was used to Lady Catelyn looking at him with such eyes and bearing such harshness; distrust, disgust, and anything that would make someone feel guilty or ill by their existence alone. He pitied Amara, never wanting to put her in such a position that he had grown accustomed to. He may have been used to the woman's scrutiny, but it was something he had to deal with. This just seemed troublesome for the healer since she took her time to come here. The woman left the village she seemed to love with the purpose of healing an ailing child.

Robb, meanwhile, was not at all shocked by his mother's behavior. In fact, he expected such since he was sure that his mother would rarely trust no person with her child, even when she was in the room. Even though he knew for a fact that due to Amara's witchful-looks that she had a hard time trusting her with Arya, he did not condone his mother's behavior. He wanted to speak, he wanted to defend her, but his father looked at him and he was stilled. In his father's eyes, he saw a sign that told him to be patient. That was all he could do? It made him feel guilty for putting the woman in such a position, and he saw the same guilt in his half brother's eyes as well.

Used to snap judgement, Amara stayed in place until she was given permission to look at the sickly girl. Eddard's eyes swung like a pendulum as his wife's gaze was locked firmly with Amara's, and even caught the wringing of her hands on the wheel. "It is not my intention to cause trouble for you, Lady Stark." Her soft voice broke the quietness of the room, "Once the child is healed, if you allow me to even begin to do so, I will inconvenience you no further."

The civility was enough to make Catelyn raise her brows in surprise. This woman was being picked apart by her head to her toes from looks alone but she remained stoic and kept a countenance of tranquility. There was a glimmer of warmth in her eyes too, which did not go unnoticed by Catelyn. It impressed her, she had to admit. It also left her a little bit speechless as she shifted her expression from distrust to a neutral one. Stepping aside, she gave her blessing. "Go on." Her voice was firm and she could hear her husband, Jon, and son let out a held in breath. She even gave them a scowl as they did and they immediately became rigid when they saw it.

Arya had heard it all and remained quiet. She had found the ability to keep her eyes open, despite they would not open all the way and they had a hazy-like glaze over them. Her eyes watched as the woman came close and her eyes widened upon the sight of the healer. Arya was not the type to admit fear but she did feel a twinge of it upon the sight of the woman. She swallowed, hard, but tried to remain nonplussed. She would watch everything the woman had done and would rightfully call her out if she seen anything odd about what was done to her. Still, apart of her had high hopes that the woman could take away what had been bugging her and kept her bedridden for days. If Robb and Jon trusted her then she would force herself to as well. After all, Arya believed her brothers indefinitely.

Amara was relieved and glad to see the drips of water that slid down the corners of the young girl's mouth. Arya quickly wiped away when she felt the droplets sliding and noted the woman's stare, which made her feel quite embarrassed that the woman saw it. Amara soon pretended to not have nothing and inwardly smiled upon the act. The girl's grey eyes were burning her face, guarded yet intrigued. "Hello Lady Arya." She decided to approach her with a calm voice before she sat at the edge of the girl's bed. In order for Arya to work with her, she would have to gain some level of comfort with her. Amara worked with too many children to know that and she could immediately tell that the girl was a stubborn one.

"You're…" Her voice raspy said, "a healer?" She questioned, being persistent through the pain. Her brow raised in question.

"Yes." The healer answered, "I am here to see what ails you." She kept a friendly smile, hoping that would ease Arya immediate distrust of her. The girl wasn't too willing, but Amara was patient; you had to be with children. "Now, I want you to tell me all it is that you feel, all right?"

 **:::**

She waited for him.

She stood in front of the entrance of the Great Hall as she noticed the atmosphere in the castle had drastically altered. As usual, the servants were about their duties and she knew Jon and Robb had both returned, everyone spoke of it; however, the young woman couldn't help but think that something was amiss. She didn't bother to investigate, she was much too interested in spending her time with the eldest Stark boy. This was the man she hoped to marry one day, and if she played her cards right and her father pleaded her case then she would be on the path of becoming his wife.

Picking up on the sounds of feet coming through and proceeding down the corridor, she quickly fixed her hair and rubbed her hands together with glee; her timing was perfect. "My prince… " Managing her most beguiling smile, she walked towards him with her hands gripped to her skirts to raise them so that she could walk easily. "...A moment of your time, please?"

"I'm sorry, Lady Esme." His smile was well enough worth the wait for her, as she seemed stunned by it. A dreamy gaze in her eyes as he continued on, being respectful as all Stark men. "I cannot speak to you now, I have some matters to attend to. Maybe next time?"

Despite how disappointed she was, she kept the smile plastered on her face until he was out of view. Too much was at stake to actually be angry at him, she would simply let it go... for now. Once she became his wife, there would be many changes and those changes almost meant to make him have time for her as she deserved it.

"Why do you even bother, Lady Esme?" Turning to the sound of the voice, Esme preened under his assessment. Theon strode towards her, grin and all. "Only few men can appreciate a beauty of your stature, my lady." His eyes roamed her lithe figure, only broadening his grin and not letting it falter once he got an eyeful.

The woman loved attention, she thrived off it. Even though this was not from the man she wanted, she decided to entertain him to pass the time she wished she was spending with Robb Stark. Smoothing down her skirt, she walked slowly towards him. "Would you appreciate me, Theon?" She asked, curious as she put on her seductive tone that she knew charmed men. Esme was sure she could be the most charming even though all her efforts went in vain when it came to Robb.

"Of course, Lady Esme." His voice was low, only allowing for her to hear him. It would not do him well to be loud in the hall and he would not want to disgrace her either by allowing someone else to hear their conversation. "Though my duties my tear me from your arms, I would never leave your side." She moved in close as he continued, "Especially for a woman healer."

"A healer?" She pushed back, looking into the man's eyes. "What healer?" Thoroughly confused, and infuriatingly curious, she waited for Theon to answer.

"Didn't you know?" Genuinely surprised, he watched as she shook her head in refusal. "Robb and Jon took it upon themselves to find a healer to heal Arya. She is here now; I believe she arrived minutes ago." He gave an honest answer despite knowing how the woman would feel about another woman being so close to Robb.

Seeing her blue eyes glitter with awareness, and upon seeing that look, Theon decided to do more damage. Esme turned away from him, her hands together in thought as she walked quite aimlessly as she wanted to soak his words in. "Quite a striking woman she is." Theon looked rather thoughtful, "With her beauty, it's hard to believe she's even a healer."

The noblewoman's head snapped around and if looks could kill, Theon would have been incinerated to ashes as soon as her eyes were on him. She knew Robb's father had a weakness for simple women or whores—whatever Jon's mother was, she didn't care—but his son had never shown that trait. First, Robb seemed to want to spend all his time with his siblings and now a healer? No, a beautiful one as Theon claimed? As if she did not have enough to deal with. This would not be overlooked; it would not be ignored, not even in the slightest.

Ignoring the smirk on the ward's face, she tossed her blonde mane, turned and exited the hall.

She would have to see this woman for herself.

 **:::**

The hallway of Arya's room was quiet as Jon stood in it, pacing with his arms behind him as they awaited for the examination to be over. His father said that he had things to take care of, duties to fulfill, but would return when he was finished. Yet, he'd liked to be notified when the woman was finished as well because if things were dire than he would like to hear from the healer herself. Jon promised him that he would alert him upon first notice and Eddard gave him a squeeze on his shoulder before he left. Despite the situation, Jon felt guilty for how happy he felt. There was pride in his father's eyes and it was directed to him even though some of it also belonged to Robb as well.

Robb had waited with him but left a little minute after their father did. He said he would be right back. Whatever Robb went to do, Jon had no clue what it was. Not lingering on what reason his brother left, he kept his pacing. This was usually the time that Jon would spend training but he wasn't in the mood for it. Everything hinged on Amara's ability and if she was unable to treat Arya, he would have to go search for another healer. Austin stayed in the hall with him, looking bored and also worried. Jon could only assume that even Austin noticed the odd tension between Catelyn and Amara earlier and he worried for her well-being.

As promised, Robb returned but he did not return alone. Bran and Rickon were with him, looking quite troublef as everyone else was about the ordeal. "I thought they should know we returned." Robb explained, looking back down at his youngest brothers with a small smile. "And I thought Austin would like to meet them."

Austin's head perked at the sound of his name but then awkwardly looked to the younger Starks. Both Bran and Rickon looked quite as awkward as he was, and gave him a slight wave for Austin to bow politely. Amused by the atmosphere, Robb quirked a brow before straightening them and looked to Jon. "Is she finished yet?" He asked.

"No." He answered with a shake of his head to confirm it. "I don't know how long it'll take either."

"Are you sure this woman can save Arya?" Bran asked, obviously worried and overall curious. "Is she really _that_ capable?"

Out of defense, Austin raised his chin. "Yes, she can!" He said, startling both Bran and Rickon. "I watched 'er save many people. Some things that other healers done said they couldn't cure, but she _did_." Jon and Robb watched with amusement as Austin looked to the door, brows furrowed. "Miss Amara couldn't save my Pa 'cause he was too sick when she finally met 'im but she can save any kid, even from the likes of the Stranger. She fights 'im! She fights 'im good."

Rickon's eyes widened, "She fights the Stranger?" Intrigued, he kept his hand tightly gripping Bran's sleeve as Bran also looked enraptured by Austin's words.

"Yep!" The blond said proudly, chest pushed out and a knowing smirk on his face. Nobody could make him not believe what he was saying, he was so sure and true. "She looks 'im right in his eyes and says: "Not today." and he loses _every time_."

 **:::**

Arya had said a great many of things, some which left the young woman mulling over the words. Amara was glad that the girl was cooperative and spoke many of her afflictions. Amara hand would repeatedly touch at Arya's neck, the back of her her head and forehead as well as the girl's pulse at her wrist. Even though Arya warned her she grew tired of the woman checking and was made to hush by her mother, she gave Amara hard stare at the constant touching but kept still as Amara couldn't help but want to chuckle at the curl of Arya's lips. She ignored the warning in her eyes and gave her a look to say _"I'm doing this for you"_ and Arya's resolve would waver before picking back up again.

"Have you figured it out?" Lady Catelyn asked as Amara stared at the young girl with a great deal of thoughts. Her blue eyes surveyed everything; from the color of Arya's complexion, how unhealthy pale the child was, and how the fever would dim and rise every few minutes or so. The girl would grow more than warm, to the point of burning, but Amara did not appear alarmed because she knew it would scare both mother and daughter.

Because of that, she hesitated on answering the woman's question at the moment. She had a theory but would not reveal it, not just yet. Amara surmised that Lady Catelyn only dealt with facts too, but she could not stall and would have to produce them. And so, she said. "No." Hoping that would suffice for a little while.

Surprised, and disappointed. Catelyn repeated the word, "No?"

"I only have an idea, but no facts." Looking up at Lady Catelyn, she made sure that her eyes transfixed on the woman's own to show her honesty. "I do not want to worry you with guesses." Hoping that would ease the woman, she saw the slump in Lady Catelyn's shoulder as she closed her eyes and released a long sigh. Despite feeling bad for the woman was worrying for days now, she could not state her theory just yet.

Opening her eyes once more, Catelyn looked down at the healer's mutinous face. "When will I be able to expect an answer?"

Amara's slowly looked down at Arya, picking her words carefully. "If I cannot answer by night, I suspect I'll be able to answer by midday tomorrow, Lady Stark." She answered, giving the woman a firm nod to further confirm it.

Her prognosis was now complete, but she did not want Arya to know of it. The results were alarming, but she kept her expression pleasant enough that Arya would feel comfortable to go back to sleep after Amara asked her to. Pulling the covers over the young girl, she kept her eyes transfixed on her to make sure she was actually sleeping when she finally closed her eyes. Standing, she looked to Catelyn and inclined her head towards the door, the woman nodded upon seeing it but commented that she would bid her good nights to her daughter first before joining her.

Upon exiting the room, she was surprised to see the hall in front of Arya's door so full. Robb leaned against the wall, Jon standing in the middle of it with his eyes on the ground, while two boys and Austin were speaking quite low for children but polite enough for Arya. She arched a brow, surprised by the sight before letting the door close and allowing them be alerted of her presence. "Is the examination over, Miss Amara?" The eldest Stark asked, growing tired of waiting.

Seeing the two boys, which she assumed were their brothers nearby, she was unsure if she should speak on the matters with them here. Parting her lips to answer, she felt the door lightly hit her back and quickly moved out of the way so Lady Catelyn could leave the room. She had closed the door but not without words to send the boys away, "Miss Amara said she'll know by midday tomorrow but Arya must rest first." She spoke instead, saving Amara from having to say the lie herself.

Relieved, she saw the look on Robb's face, which hinged on disappointment. "Do not worry, Young Lord. She will be healed." Amara said to him, hoping to ease his fears and he gave her a smile and she returned one.

"I believe in you." He simply said, "She'll need a place to stay, her and Austin." He told his mother.

"I will see to it. For now, you go ahead and eat and rest. I want to speak with Miss Amara alone." The red-haired woman instructed, leaving the boys all contemplative. Jon gazed at her, worried, but Amara's smile towards him slowly eased it. Giving a slight bow, he left with the others and they took Austin along with them. Austin looked back, gazing at her but she had waved at him and he knew that she would be fine.

Without thought, Amara slowly turned towards the worried mother and began to speak. "My Lady, I would like to speak to your son, the Young Lord, Rickon."

The woman's bright, blue eyes immediately widened and her head jolted back as she was taken aback by the sudden request. "Why?" She immediately questioned before her lips went downward in a deep frown, now becoming much more worried than she was before. "Do you believe he might've caught her illness?"

"No." Amara shook her head quickly to dismiss that idea, "Not at all." Catelyn sighed in relief, the prayer wheel still in her hands as she waited for an explanation. "Lady Arya informed me of what she ate prior and during her illness. She spoke of her brother being there during a few of her meals at times, and what she said quite alarmed me. She said that sometimes Lord Rickon would say there was an odd smell in her food at times." The dark-haired woman explained, gazing at the floor in thought. "It seems he has a great sense of smell and is familiar with the odor, that is why I think your son just may be able to help me find the source of it. The only reason I ask outside was because I wanted your permission and I did not want your daughter to worry since stress will not work in her favor in her current condition."

Alarmed seemed to be the sufficient word. The older woman seemed unsure and shocked, wondering if one of the chefs had intentionally poisoned her child. Her jaw set, her hands wringing the prayer wheel more so out of anger, as she closed her eyes tightly. She remained silent for a while as Amara patiently awaited an answer, "I will not go further without your permission, but I _need_ to know what it is." Amara insisted.

Catelyn soon opened her eyes, looking at the woman with thought. With a sigh, she gave a nod. "I'll allow it but I would like to be there with you."

With a smile, Amara nodded her head. "I wouldn't want it any other way, Lady Stark."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Never will I, never have I, and never will I in the future own ASOIAF or Game of Thrones.

 **Author's Note** :

* * *

It was a good thing that Lady Catelyn trusted her judgement, but it was truly thanks to Rickon in all actuality. She had to confirm it with her son first, asking if he did smell strange odors from Arya's meals. Amara watched, not offended that the woman had to question her story, as he told his mother the truth with his eyes downcast; the poor boy believed that he would be punished for not telling her sooner but that wasn't the case. Catelyn was indeed upset that he did not tell her but she would not punish him. Instead, she told him to tell her whenever he was suspicious of anything, she even praised that the boy would play a big part of being called a hero for saving his sister. That was enough to wash away any guilt Rickon must've felt these few days.

Septa Mordane was left to watch Arya in case Amara's suspicions were proven to be true. Amara also left Arya peppermint tea to soothe the soreness of her throat and was given mumbles of disgust as she left the room with Lady Catelyn and Rickon. As they left, Rickon's eyes were big in confusion but it was soon coated over by fear. His eyes shyly looked to the floor as Amara gave him many thanks for being brave to handle such a task. Catelyn watched as Amara wanted to make sure that Rickon wanted to do it, but Catelyn knew her son would be quick to take the job if it meant he could save his older sister. She smiled approvingly at the rush of his answer and idly watched Amara keep a comfortable distance from him as they walked.

They had took the stairs, venturing through the back corridor and into an area that held pantries of the back kitchens. Once they were there, Amara immediately scoured the shelves after Catelyn's permission. With that nod of approval, she quickly opened several jars of herbs and spices to look for what she thought could possibly be the culprit. She sniffed and had not found any strange odors and after she sniffed them, she let Rickon do the same but his head shook no after everything she had given him. With a curious tilt, she then asked Rickon if he could find it on his own. Perplexed, he slowly gave a nod, which meant he would try.

Both women watched as Rickon took another jar and examined the contents of it. Amara smiled at how driven he was, "What you are doing, Lord Rickon, is very brave." She praised him, and smiled once she saw that bashful look on his features. Rickon attempted to let his hair cover his reddened cheeks, to obscure them from the healer's view.

"I want to help my sister so much…" He said softly, "But I am… kind of afraid."

His mother watched the interaction between the two, staying silent as she felt this was a good way to judge the healer right then. Rickon was not easily trusting and did not get on well with strangers, but she assumed he was speaking more because she was there or else the boy would've been absolutely mute. "Don't be." Amara told him, bending her knees so that she was his height. "Your lady mother and lord father will very much protect you, as will I if need be."

" _You_ will protect me?" Rickon questioned, obviously not buying what she was selling. " _You_ barely know me."

"Aye, that is true, Young Lord." She gave him a nod, "But Austin can tell you justly how protective I am of children." Mirthfully, her eyes slit-closed in an eye smile as her lips were upturned. "And you are indeed a child, are you not?" He nodded, "And so I will protect you, just as I would any other child."

Her eyes opened to observe the look of thought on his face, the way his head tilted forward as he registered her words. Rickon was still unsure if he could believe her but his mind then thought of Austin, who seemed quite protective and thought highly of the lady. Even though he had not known Austin very long or very well, he could tell the boy was genuine when it came to her. Also, he believed that both Robb and Jon had the right judgement to trust her with their family. If they could believe in her then he could too, but he would still have his doubts. "I believe you."

Catelyn's eyes widened a fraction at that as he offered the healer a smile right then. Unsure of this was all for the sake of Arya or he really believed the healer, she watched her youngest child gain some courage from her words. "Thank you, Miss Amara." There was a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he said it as he then paid more attention on finding the odd smell than the healer.

Leaving him be, Amara stood up straight and folded her hands in front of her, watching him hunt down the odor he smelled before. He then went to the one of the pantries, closing in on it to find a large chest at the corner of it. The boy went rigid at the sight of it, which made Amara and Catelyn eyes narrow contemplatively. "Is that it?" Amara inquired, her voice low as Catelyn wrung her hands and stepped closer.

Rickon eyes swiftly went up to look at his mother first, who rose a brow questioningly and then inclined her head towards the healer. He then turned to look at Amara and gave her a nod, "Yes." The boy was trembling despite his reassuring smile.

Amara tried to strain a smile to lessen his worry, her stride was slow as she motioned for him to stand by his mother. He did so after giving the chest a stare for a few minutes, and Amara knelt down to the floor before grabbing it. Her bottom lip was chewed between her teeth, wary of what could possibly in it but she bravely pulled it out until she could place it on the flat surface of the floor. Lady Catelyn knelt down as well, pulling her son close as Amara went on to lift the lid of the chest. There were plenty of jars; pottery upon pottery, which would make shake it completely free of suspicion. Whoever went this far must've completely mastered a plan to keep the poison far from noticeable. This had to been premeditated.

After checking each pot and container, she found that all of them were disappointingly empty. It frustrated her, making her brows scrunch and her eyes squint as she continued to search through the chest. It was until she found a small box at the corner of it that made her brows perk up. Reaching for it, she held it in her hands and glanced at Rickon as he eyed it. Lifting the lid slowly and carefully, the boy quickly used the sleeve of his tunic to cover his nose. "That's definitely it!" He exclaimed, his eyes squinting as he kept them fixated on the small box.

The boy spoke truth because the acrid odor filled her nostrils as soon as she opened it as well. The smell made her squeeze one of her eyes shut just from how strong it was. Still, she would have to force her eye open to look inside to find out what it was. Upon first glance, you would not see nothing. You would have to look harder, bring your face closer to see the reddish brown residue that laced the corners of the box. Her jaw set as her eyes then shifted to look at Lady Catelyn, who's sharp eyes were narrowing in tumultuous fury. Knowing that they found their evidence, she closed the lid and waited for what the woman had to say. "I want my husband to see this." Even though her voice was controlled despite the expression she gave off, you knew hellfire was in the aura she gave off. She even made sure that her grip on her son wasn't painfully tight, "Do you know what kind of poison this is?"

Amara shook her head slowly, "No, I'm afraid not, Lady Stark." Her eyes looked at the box with thought, "But I will quickly check my journal to see if it is listed." That was all she could inform her, keeping calm as possible as she did not want the woman to actually burst in flames in her rightful rage. Catelyn had the right to be angry, someone was hurting her child, intentionally so. And if they had the ability to be here then it had to be someone who worked within the castle, right? Someone they had trusted in their home. Just who would want to hurt their child?

Handing the box over to her, Catelyn tucked the small box in the sleeves of her dress as Amara requested to go to Arya's room to check on her. Lady Catelyn parted with them there, telling them she would take what they discovered to Eddard and Rickon could go with Amara to Arya's room if he wanted. He nodded, wishing to see his sister now that he knew someone was hurting her out of evil intent. Both boy and healer made their way back to the upper floors, turning down the corridor to Arya's room just to see a guard speaking with a young woman.

Rickon's steps faltered at the sight of her, Amara noticed, but Amara kept moving forward despite Rickon's obvious wariness. The young boy then picked up the pace as they heard the end of the guard's conversation with a noble-like lady. "…It has yet to be determined, my lady. I assure you that your concern will not go unnoticed." He then quickly turned seeing the healer and young lord, "Ah… Lord Rickon." He then shifted his gaze to the healer. "Healer…" He seemed relieved by the sight of them.

Seeing no need to introduce herself, especially since Rickon hadn't spoke to the noblewoman himself, she stood quietly behind him as he gazed up at her curiously. He, himself, was wondering why Amara had not introduced herself to her since it seemed the right as well as polite thing to do.

Feeling something odd by the way the young woman eyed her, Amara's soon placed her hands on Rickon's shoulders, she shifted the boy ahead of her and lightly pushed him towards the open door. He crossed the threshold into Arya's room, but Amara's path was blocked. "I heard Lord Robb had engaged a healer to look after his sister." Her eyes roamed up and down Amara's figure. In some way, she surmised that Theon held some truth in his words. The woman was exceptional in a plain sort of way; there were no rogues or powders applied to her face and her clothes were less than alluring. There was a natural beauty about her that could either draw you in or push you away.

Straightening to her full height, Esme looked down on the healer haughtily. It was as if she wanted to show her the difference between their statuses as well as their height. Amara was short, standing exactly at five foot and Esme was a good six inches taller. "What are you called, healer?"

Amara decided to keep an impenetrable expression; blank, void of anything. "My name is of no importance." Her voice was in measured tones, speaking quite clearly in with indication that she did not wish to indulge the woman in conversation at all.

Taken aback, Esme couldn't believe the healer's boldness. Quickly recovering from her shock at being spoke to in such a manner, the noblewoman sneered. "You forget your place, healer." Moving with intent, she advanced on the black-haired woman. "It appears you are in dire need of a lesson in how to address your betters."

Before the guard could intervene, a blur blinded him and he heard a scream. Once his vision was cleared, he saw Esme thrown back and land on her rear end in the corridor. He turned back in time to see Amara's arm raised as if she had just performed a slap, which was made clear as there was a mark of red on the noblewoman's cheek. "When you say 'betters'…" Amara's monotone voice filled the hall, "…of whom do you speak, my lady?" Even still, with her eyes ablaze there was an impassive expression on her face.

There was a feral look in the blonde woman's eyes as she rose to her feet, her eyes nearly turning into slits. "You little…" So incensed, so outraged, she wasn't able to complete her words before she was going to lunge herself at the healer.

Her face had then bumped into a wall of someone's chest, Amara's eyes slowly and wide-eyed looking up to see that Jon Snow stood between, separating them like a great wall. "This will go no further." He ordered, which made Esme gather herself, grooming herself as she made her eyes well up with tears.

"Did you see what she did?!" Esme screeched, pointing to her burning and red cheek. If left unattended, it would certainly swell and that seemed to anger her even more. "That… That _vile_ woman attacked me!" She spat.

Theon had slowly walked his way over, "Yes…" He said, "we saw that, my lady." Even though, all before, he was interested in making the woman climb in his bed, he seemed disinterested with her now as he exchanged a look with Jon. There were rules, rules that had to be followed. "Come with me, Lady Esme." He held out his arm for the noblewoman to take, "We shall inform Lord and Lady Stark."

" _Good_." Esme smirked at this, "Our lord and lady will not tolerate such impudence; such _savagery_." Linking her arm with Theon's, she looked back the black-haired woman with a look of victory. "Rest assured, healer, this is _not_ be the end of this."

Jon and Amara watched until the Theon and Esme became far from their line of sight. Jon's eyes then traveled to the healer, watching her gather the skirt of her garb in her hands, seeing them shake in anger as her eyes decided to find infuriating interest of the ground. "Jon," The guard addressed him and smoothly stood in front of Amara, "It it was as she stated; the healer _did_ attack first but, on my word, she was provoked."

Surprised, she lifted her eyes to look at the guard as he came to her defense. "I am aware of that, Grant; however, you know the rules, and I have to take her into custody until my lord father or Lady Catelyn comes to see her." He believed her as well? Amara was stunned by Jon's admittance, eyes wide as she gazed up at him over the guard's shoulder. "No harm will befall her. I just have to adhere to the rules of the castle, Grant. Please keep an eye on my little sister and brother. _Only you_." Grant received Jon's smile and that was enough for him to nod and shift away from the healer and stand right back in front of the door.

Jon offered Amara his arm, but she ignored it and preceded him down the corridor. "She's angry with _me_?" He mumbled in disbelief, unsure of what he did wrong. With a sigh, he quickly tried to go faster than her pace.

 **:::**

Rickon watched in astonishment, the entire thing that is. From Amara dealing with Lady Esme and to Jon having to take her into custody. His ill sister heard everything from her bed, and nobody could wipe the smirk that was plastered on her face. Amara kept a smile and an air of lightness when she was in her company, but the healer was surprisingly bold from what Arya seen and heard. Even though she had her reservations, unsure on whether or not she liked her or trusted her, she did think Amara had earned some of her respect. It even came as a shock that Rickon seemed worried now that Jon took her into custody, "I think she can handle herself, Rickon." Arya said, voice completely free of the raspy tone she had earlier due to the peppermint tea Amara had made her drink.

Septa Mordane had taken a nap, which meant that two children could have their conversation without hushed voices. Mordane couldn't be waken up for anything whenever she was deep into her sleep. Leaving the door now that it Guard Grant closed it, Rickon went to sit by his sister's bed. "She's very strange, if you ask me." Rickon said. Attempting to laugh, Arya ended up coughing instead and her little brother thumped her softly on the back until it was under control.

"I don't know really…" Arya tilted her head in thought, her brows furrowed. "I don't know anything about her, but I'm glad someone stood up to that snobby woman." Arya smirked, wondering if the "snobby woman" was Lady Esme. The wolf girl couldn't stand her and she was well aware that the woman drooled for her brother, Robb. Arya did her own tricks to make sure Robb and Esme were separated. "She seems smart, and she doesn't even seem to be afraid of mom _or_ dad."

Both children exchanged glances before nodding their heads, agreeing with that. "She told me she would protect me." Rickon went on to say, "I didn't believe her, I still didn't a little time before, but I think I do now."

"Protect you? Protect you from _what_?" Arya questioned.

"From whoever poisoned you." Her brother replied, "Since I found it then they might be after me next."

"Not when I'm through with them they won't." His sister said, brows knitted together and eyes storming with anger. "When they find out who did this, _I'll_ make sure they pay."

"Just _what_ will you do?" Genuinely curious, and disbelieving, he arched a brow as he waited for his sister's reply.

Scoffing, she raised her fist. "I'll knock them silly, stupid!"

 **:::**

 **Jon's POV**

I had taken her to the library, using it as a holding cell instead of the dungeon since I didn't think the woman deserved all of that. I was well aware that Miss Amara wasn't the type of woman to not hit someone without a purpose. She had never strike anyone during the whole bandit attack, but she did seem ready to fight that bandit commander until I ended him. She only fought when she had to, at least that's what I thought.

I tried to make conversation, but she was silent. She sat across from me, looking serene as if the events never happened. I'm still unsure why she is angry with me when I knew that she wasn't that type of person and that I was clearly on her side in all of this. Not once would she look at me, but I never decided to give up; at least not completely yet. "Are you hurt?" I asked her.

"For the seventh time…" Her eyes finally looked at me, "no, I am not hurt; I am perfectly fine." The healer was now bearing an attitude, which was quite a sight to see. I wasn't sure why I even laughed and she looked startled by it.

Her eyes studied me, head cocked at an angle with narrowed eyes. "I assure you, Miss Amara; I will put the matter to rest." I jested and I thought I saw a ghost of a smile on her face as I said so. She then neatly folded her hands on the table and tore her eyes away from me, but I couldn't find it in myself to look away from her.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, and it seemed as if she had to strain her thanks out to me. I couldn't stop myself from smiling as I kept my eyes fixated on her.

"My other questions," I sat up straighter, "will you answer those?"

I asked her if she discovered what ailed my little sister. Lady Catelyn had said the healer would answer midday tomorrow, but even Robb and I knew that they were hiding something since they went on to speak alone. And just before that, Miss Amara looked at us as if she wanted to say something but was interrupted. I believed she found her answer earlier but did not have time to say it and even servants whispered that they made their way to the kitchen, so they had something going on.

"I wanted to tell you earlier." She said, which surprised me. "But I didn't want to say so in front of the children." Looking up at me, she let out a sigh. "Lady Arya is being poisoned."

I was stunned. Who could've done it? Why would they do it? Arya had a sharp tongue—I've been the victim of it before—there was just no mistaking that, but she had never done anything to warrant someone to poison her. Not only that, did they not fear my father or even Lady Catelyn? Just who was this person and why were they so bold? What did they want to accomplish?

"I need my medical journal to know if the poison is written down as well as its cure." She sighed again, "But even if it isn't so, I am determined to find the cure myself."

Grateful; that was all I could be. Miss Amara wanted to save my sister even if she didn't know the poison. I couldn't be surprised since I knew the woman was maternally linked to children. I wonder if my sister stole her heart already and that was why she was already so determined to save her.

Amara looked to me, her voice modulated still. "I wish to be taking care of her now but I suppose I still have to wait."

"Sorry," I apologized, "but that is the rules."

Unfolding her hands, she shifted to rest them on her lap and looked towards the window of the tower. I felt uneasy since I kept on with my staring. I couldn't help but think that, even though my own hair was black, why I found her's striking. Maybe it was because of the pale features of her skin that so ludicrously contrasted the shade. Maybe it was the way her hair fell long and straight, simply refusing to curl like mine had done.

And even her presence alone made her seem elegant and majestic, like some sort of painting or as if she was truly highborn. In a way, it was unnerving to me but I kept wanting to watch her. I couldn't keep my eyes away and I felt as if I had been spellbound from her looks alone. Slowly, she turned to look at me and her eyes kept me stilled; dark from a distance but bluer as the sea up close they were. I saw their brightness when we shared my horse, and even then I had felt stunned by her then.

"I apologize for my behavior in the hall." Her voice broke me out of my trance, and I surveyed her as one should in conversation instead of my ogling. "I was not angry with you, but I was angry with the words that had been said to me by _that_ woman."

"Don't apologize." I was glad to hear that she wasn't angry with me like I thought. "Why is there animosity between you and Lady Esme anyway?"

She was quick with her answer, "There is no animosity." Amara told me, "I only met her today. I've _only_ met nearly everyone today."

Which was true, I know, but one wouldn't believed that since Lady Esme seemed so infuriated with her. I would think Miss Amara would need to stay alert after today. With my best intentions, I leaned closer but found my shyness reeling me back. "You should be careful, Miss—"

"Please." I was confused by her interruption, my brows raised and mouth agape. "Don't keep calling me that. Miss, I mean, just call me Amara as I will call you Jon. If you do not wish formalities then neither do I."

I was mute by her words, unsure why the woman was unusual in both looks and personality now. I do feel contented that she wanted me to call her by first name basis as I told her to call me. The smile on lips came apparent and as I gave her a shaky nod. I couldn't gather a word of thanks. I just remained silent since I knew how to do that best.

The entrance of the library opened, which made us both look up and raise ourselves to our feet. It was my father who came, much to my surprise. "Father…" I began, "There was a disagreement between Amara and Lady Esme earlier. Grant appeared to have things under control, but Theon and I though it was best to intervene. I brought her here until you or Lady Catelyn would decide what was best."

I was relieved at my father's nod, he seemed understanding of the situation. I couldn't help but wonder how he truly felt from what he must've heard an earful from Lady Esme. If she gave her story than it was obvious how biased she'd be since she couldn't exactly express the faultiness in her own actions. She probably thrown outrageous accusations in regards to Amara while she was here with me and unable to defend herself.

I stood waiting to be told to leave but was surprised that my father made me stay. His eyes never left Amara as she stood firm in place with that same elegance that she presented to high and lowborn alike. "Lord Stark…" She spoke, surprising me since earlier on she never felt the need to explain herself. Why did she feel so now? Did she feel guilty? "I am not responsible for what occurred earlier; Guard Grant will attest to that."

"You appear unharmed." Her eyes widened upon the suspicion and I found myself growing wary if she would be judged properly. "As Lady Esme is the only one injured; is it presumptuous of me to think that you attacked her first?"

Shaking her head, she then gave an exhausted smile. "I did, my lord. I was provoked."

My father smiled at that, which made me wonder just what he was thinking. "I'm glad you answered honestly, but I am surprised that you chose to explain yourself." I suppose it shouldn't have come as a surprise that my father noticed that too. He was a keen man and not many things slipped by him. "You haven't done so earlier."

Amara shifted her feet in place, hands interlocked together as she looked to collect her thoughts. Her eyes gazed down at the floor, losing that bravery she held minutes prior but there was a sense of desperateness in her voice. "I _want_ to save Lady Arya, and I want to protect Lord Rickon as well. Lady Stark has shown you what she found, hasn't she?" She focused her eyes up at him in time to see his nod, "Then you understand how grave the situation is, but I worry for your children. I wouldn't be able to rest if I knew they were in danger."

"You care that deeply for children?" The woman nodded to prove she had, "Is that why you travel with that boy? I can tell that he clearly isn't your son." I figured it was obvious since she and the boy did not have any resemblance. Yet when they were together, anyone would assume she was his mother with the way she doted on him and from the looks she gave him alone.

"I do. I am fond of children and I wish to save any child that I come across; call it being a woman, a motherly streak or whatever it may be." Her head moved in a slow but sure nod, "I just can't find it in myself to abandon a child that I know I can save and even if I can't… I just can't abandon them, at all. It just isn't possible for me."

I admired the woman before for her way and affections concerning children but I think it increased once I've heard her words. I also envied young Austin, since I never had a person to take their role as a mother to care for me. He was lucky. "I would've never explained myself to you, Lord Stark. Not because I didn't think you were worthy of it, because you are, but because I would trust that you would understand what happened between Lady Esme and I. I just don't want you to send me away when I know I can save your daughter, so I will plead my case if it makes me able to continue to help her."

I hadn't understood much of that look in my father's eyes. It looked as if he wasn't really seeing Amara, but someone else in her place. He made no movements, no expression on his face; nothing at all as he stood there. "Robb and Jon really made the right choice." I thought I hadn't heard him. I sincerely thought I imagined his words, "You may return to my daughter." I wanted to sigh in relief right then, but I kept my expression blank. "Find the cure while I find who poisoned her."

Amara looked so happy and relieved then. She let out a breath she felt like she held in for years and gave a bow, "Thank you, my lord." She had quickly withdrew herself from the library and hurried herself out. All who was left in the library was myself and my father.

"She loves fiercely," I heard my father say, "and quite quickly at that." He smirked at that before turning to me. "I think Cat and I might have to worry that she'll steal our pups."

"I doubt it, Father." I was glad he felt able to jest with me. He was busy and worried these past few days, and I felt like he had shed all of that upon news that Arya would be cured. I knew though, that all his stress would just build up again, since it was discovered that there was a traitor among us. "The woman is brave but not that much."

It felt good to laugh with him. I think it was because I craved any kind of reaction with him; positive ones the most. He and I talked more in the library and I think it was the best talks we had in a long while.

 **End POV**

Her stride was quick but she made sure not to look too worried. After all, the guard was standing in front of her door and so there wouldn't be anyone brave enough to take him down and go inside her chambers. Just thinking of that had lessen her worries and she was able to slow down her strides as she made her way down the corridors with a sense of ease. As soon as she saw the guard, her eyes caught sight of another person. A young girl with hair a bright red and falling down near the end of her back stood there with her hands wringing together. Amara slowed down her pace until she became still and watched with mild curiosity. Was this another one of the Starks? The girl looked completely identical to Lady Catelyn herself.

Whatever her reason was for standing near Arya's door, she simply shook her head and made way to leave. "Excuse me," Amara spoke up, drawing the girl's attention. The red-haired girl slowly turned to look at her, eyes alighting with curiosity before it dawned her who the woman was. "You can see her." She tried to urge her, forcing herself to smile.

Shaking her head, she then forced a smile of her own. "I realized I have other things to do." Was her reply and from the looks of it, she was lying. "You're the healer, aren't you?"

"Yes." She nodded, "And I can only assume you are the sister of Lady Arya?"

"Yes," The girl nodded and answered, "my name is Sansa, healer."

Sansa Stark; Amara mentally noted now. With comfortable steps, she neared the girl and gave her a curtsy. "It is an honor to meet you, my lady."

With grace and a smile, she gave a curt nod. "You can go and take care of my sister now. I won't take up more time that could be used to care for her." It shouldn't be so surprising by how polite she was. The girl was an embodiment of the word: lady-like. "And please, don't tell her I was here."

A little bit taken aback by the overwhelming politeness, Amara's lips parted in surprise before pulling up in a smile. "Yes, my lady."

No longer bothering her, she waited for the guard to move aside and let her in. Once he did, she entered the young girl's chambers to see that only Arya was in the room. The brown haired girl was sitting up, her expression of boredom with overwhelming frustration most of all. The healer couldn't help but breathe out a chuckle, which didn't go unnoticed and made the child whip her head to glare at her. "What's so funny?" Arya questioned.

"I can tell how irate you are that you're stuck in your room." It was clear, Amara understood that children didn't like being bedridden, especially for days. "But you won't be for long." She gave her a wink, "I promise you."

She could tell the girl didn't know what to make of her words ( or actions for that matter ), and the way her eyes shifted quickly from her only proved the girl was still testing if she could believe it or not. Not wanting to rush anything, Amara walked towards her large satchel and went through her things before she pulled out her medical journal. It was worn, proving how old and well-traveled it was, and it piqued Arya's interest upon the sight of it.

"What's that?" The young brunette asked.

Amara held the book in one hand, placing the satchel back in the chair it was resting in. "My medical book." She answered.

"Can I see it?" Amara rose a brow, wondering why the girl was interested in a book of words, flowers, spices and herbs. She never would've thought that Arya would be but she wouldn't question it. Instead, she walked over and handed her the book without question.

Her smalls hands opened it once it was within her grasp, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the contents before being overwhelmed with confusion. Her eyes then ventured to look up at the woman, "What language is this?"

Expecting the question and reaction, Amara rested her hands in her lap. "YiTish." She answered, watching the girl look surprised. Out of jest, she continued. "I thought you out of everyone wouldn't assume I was Westerosi."

"I had my doubts." Smiling at this, Amara watched as Arya's fingers traced over the words over the nearly brittle pages. "What is Yi Ti like?"

There was not a moment where Amara did not think of home, but she often didn't think of it with happy thoughts. Her eyes lowered to the floor as shifted slightly in the seat by Arya's bed, feeling the young girl's eyes burning her face as she awaited an answer. "Well…" Swallowing hard, she looked up in thought. "Where I lived in Yi Ti, we were nestled in a rainforest." Her eyes were filled with nostalgia, "My people, my tribe, resided there. Of course, by your standards it wouldn't be called a tribe since it is translated to us having a prince. It would be our realm in the usual Common Tongue."

"Yi Ti is, well was, ruled by God-Emperors, but he have our own fraction of power now." Arya watched her still, listening intently to every word. "There a great many things but I do not know much since I never left my people and when I did, I went straight to the harbors to leave the place."

She could tell the girl wanted to ask why she left, but she kept her question sewn on her lips. Amara was a little bit grateful for that even though she would want to quell the girl's curiosity. "My father says Yi Ti has great wine."

"We are known for that, yes." Amara rose a brow, playfully. "But you're too young to worry about wine."

Frowning, Arya furrowed her brows. "I know but that's all I know of it other than Basiliks but father and Robb say they aren't real." Chuckling, the healer reached her hands out for the book as Arya gave it back. Looking through the pages, she could feel the Stark girl wasn't ready to end the conversation but she hadn't known what to ask until now. "What made you decide to be a healer anyway?"

With a small smile, she kept her eyes fixed on the pages she skimmed through. "My mother was a healer. She died from an illness, which is curable but was unknown to us and even herself at the time. I wanted to be like her and I also wanted to cure illnesses so that no more children would have to raise their siblings or lose their mother like my brother and I did." Her explanation was brief and one that didn't leave her heart heavy as it used to. "This journal was my mother's and I've added more to it."

"How come you're not with your brother?" Arya asked, bluntly. Since the woman could answer the other personal question then surely she could answer this one.

"My brother now leads our people." Amara answered, "Since our father died, I relinquished my title and gave it to him and now he leads with the help of our uncles. I never took his death well so I left."

"Do you still speak to him?" She questioned further.

The woman gazed up at her thoughtfully, "I spoke to him a year ago through letters. He told me that our tribe grew and that he and our people are doing well. So, whenever I settle for a place long enough, I write to him and ask him how he is."

Arya look satisfied with that. "Good. Family is important."

Crinkling her eyes, Amara nodded. "Yes, family is." In the comfortable silence between them, Amara continued her search. "How are you feeling? Are any of your symptoms coming back?"

"My throat doesn't hurt anymore." Arya answered with a shrug, "But I still get dizzy and my head hurts a lot. I'm _sick_ of sleeping too."

"Sleeping helps when you are ill," Resting her eyes on a page, she read it quite thoroughly despite continuing the conversation. "But I understand how you would be tired of it.

At least the woman wasn't going to chide her to sleep, she halfway expected that. "How many name days are you?"

"Seven and ten name days, I'll turn eight and ten in middle of Autumn." With a sigh, she turned the page. "And how many are you?"

"Eleven." She said with an air of confidence.

The healer rose a brow, " _Someone_ is almost a woman." Her lips quivered upon the look of distaste the young Stark had for her words. "I assume you do not want to take on the responsibilities given to you once you are, my lady?"

Hesitantly, she mindlessly picked at the fur blanket that laid on top of the lower half her body. Her grey eyes flickered with anger and anxiety, "I don't want to be a lady; I _want_ to be a warrior, but mum thinks that because I'm a girl I can't be."

"I see." Unsure of what she could say that would cheer her up, Amara sat up in her seat before giving her a smile. "My grandmother was Lengii." She was greeted by Arya's eyes, showing a hint of interest now. "And they believe in a God-Empress."

"A God-Empress?" Even more intrigued, she had tilted her head inquisitively. "Who is she?"

Glad to pull her out of her sad thoughts, Amara tried to recall all that she could. "Her name was Khiara the Great, she founded Leng and continues to rule. I'm pretty sure she was told that she had to be a lady once too when she was young, but she decided to become something greater." Arya had gave her a smile, a genuine one and not her usual smirks. The sight of it made Amara give her one in return, "Or how about Nymeria of the Rhoyne? She was a princess and became a queen, but she came what is considered a warrior-queen."

The way the girl's face lit up made the healer's heart swell, "She's my favorite!"

"She's a favorite of mine too." With a nod, she pulled her eyes away from the child and looked down at the journal. "I've read many books of her and am still amazed by all the things she managed to accomplish."

"You too also wanted to be a warrior or you just liked to read of them instead?" The question didn't offend her, she was sure the girl's sharpness was just to be blunt and not to be harmful. It was a thing she picked up from children, and that was why she found it easier to deal with them.

"I never wanted to be a warrior," Amara answered, "but I did learn how to fight like one."

"You can fight?" Arya's face scrunched up in disbelief, unsure if she could really believe her or not. "You don't look like it."

With a chuckle, Amara closed the book. "Because I don't look like a warrior I can't be one?" She rose a brow, her smile still on her lips. "I think the deadliest types are one that you wouldn't believe to be."

"And just what can you do?" Still doubtful, she was curious as to what the healer would do prove it to her.

Not biding into it, the healer rose to her feet and walked back to her satchel. "I'll show you one day, but not today." Turning to look at her, she could see Arya's eyes narrowing in frustration. "I'll be telling the cooks to prepare food for you."

"Do _not_ feed me more broth." Was the girls angry mumble, "I'm sick of it."

Snickering, she shook her head. "It'll make you feel better, my lady."

"Broth cannot cure poison." It didn't surprise Amara that Arya knew the circumstance of her health. She could only guess someone eventually told her, possibly Rickon or maybe her mother decided not to coddle her.

"How about rice and bananas?" She offered, watching the girl's face slowly lose its tenseness.

"Fine."

 **:::**

A guard had showed her to her chambers in the guest hall after her visit with the cooks. Amara felt she was in dire need of a bath and couldn't wait to eat dinner and retire for the day. The whole day was tiresome but she couldn't help but think fondly of the conversation between herself and Arya. The girl very much reminded her of her brother; curious, fierce, and blunt. They couldn't bite back their tongues even if you paid them to, and it made her despondent as she thought back on the boy she left behind. He should be fourteen now, now that she thought about it. She had left him to lead at the age of twelve, which was far too young to rule but she couldn't bear the responsibility. Her heart still stung with guilt and she could remember that look on his face when she gave him the title. Her guilt increased now that she took in Austin, raising him in his father's place. It wasn't fair but the past was the past and she couldn't change it.

The servants had drawn her a bath and brought spare clothes for her to wear since they would have to wash her cloak and garb. They even took her socks and sandals, saying that she had to be dressed clean and accordingly for dinner. Amara didn't want to attend dinner, for several reasons, but mostly because she hadn't felt comfortable to eat with lords and ladies as well as the people that followed them. There was nothing she could do and it would be rude if she hadn't shown up, but maybe they'd let her stay for a little while and she could go back to check on Arya and then retire for the day. She was tired, incredibly so. After all she went through, all she wanted was to curl under a blanket and rest her head on a pillow. She also would have to work on this cure, which she couldn't do until morning.

The poison was called "Eight Days of Ringing Bells", which was to say that after eight days, the person would die in their sleep. The poison made you warm until it eventually made you die of immediate dehydration despite how much water you drink. The fake flu symptoms it gives you come in eight different forms. Since it has only been three days, Arya only had: fever, a sore throat, and dizziness. What was next? Amara didn't know and there was no cure in her journal just yet, which meant they would have to either find it or get the answer from whoever poisoned her before the eight days were up.

Sinking herself into the tub of hot water, she pulled her knees to her chest as she watched the steam. It rose in curly tendrils into the air before turning into nothingness. She had filled the bath with petals of flowers to soothe her skin. It felt good to have a bath and all the tense muscles in her body loosened as they should. She had hoped that Austin took one too since the last time she seen the boy, he was dirty from climbing things with Bran and had to be scolded by Lady Catelyn. She was glad he was making friends even though they would leave eventually, and she hated to tear him away from this short-lived stability they would feel here.

Cupping the water in her hands, she splashed the water on her face to feel the immediate warmth of the water. Blinking the water away, she absently looked at her reflection on the water's surface and found herself wondering just when had she looked herself in the mirror last. Amara was never looked or acted like the girls her age and younger, which always made her a little sad. Ever since she left Yi Ti at the age of fifteen, she never had indulged herself in the girlish fantasies of marrying a man and having his children or adorning perfumes and makeup.

Despite almost being married, she never was once glad about it. There were many things she wished to do, like explore Essos, but once a girl was betrothed, your life wasn't your own anymore. The man she almost was destined to spend to remainder of days with was Qasar, a man seven years her senior and spent most of his life being a formidable warrior. Amara loved him or at least she forced herself to since she was going to be his wife. When he died, she never dreamt of marrying again and even though she wondered if a life with Adney was well worth it, she was filled with doubts still.

Servants came in and out of her room, but they looked at her warily since they discovered that weapon latched onto her belt. Amara chuckled at the gasps she heard and they eyed it as it laid on the vanity with the rest of her accessories. The weapon wasn't native to Westeros but intimidating upon sight; it was a sickle attached to a chain with a ball weight at the end of it. One of the servants wanted to ask what it was and just why did she have it, but the others warned her not to. Amara wasn't at all shocked by their surprise because what healer carries a weapon anyway? Maybe that was the problem here in Westeros; healers were never once able to defend themselves and had to rely on the help of others to save them, but Amara was no fool. She could save herself if need be.

A knock rapped against her door, surprising her and making her go still. She was stunted on what to do because she naked, in the bath, and was no way able to open the door now. Maybe if she stayed silent then the person would leave? She reasoned with that notion and stayed completely still in the water. If only one of the bumbling servants were with her now then they could answer the door for her.

A few minutes of silence came after that, but the shadows underneath the door hadn't left. Amara eyed the door, hoping if she stared at it long enough then the person would just leave. It hadn't worked and the door opened, revealing Lady Catelyn, who seemed nonplussed in the state Amara was in. Even though it was another woman, Amara felt completely uncomfortable to be naked with her in the room. Catelyn merely closed the door and entered the room without an ounce of care.

"My Lady…" Amara nearly stuttered it as she kept her arms crossed over her chest and her face growing with heat.

The woman smirked, shaking her head as she took a seat at the desk at the left corner. "You have nothing I haven't seen before, Miss Amara. It is just us girls, no reason to panic." The woman walked over to the fireplace that was still lit by fire and took a seat. "I hope you will enjoy the clothes I bought here since yours needs to be cleaned."

"I was going to thank you when I saw you." Amara stared down at the water, shifting uncomfortably in place. "But you did not have to do that, I know Austin needs new clothes."

"I've gave him some as well. He fits Bran's old clothes." She poked the fire, "I made the servants wash him, especially after I caught him and Bran covered in dirt."

With a snort, she could feel the woman's glare on her back from here alone. "My apologies, I'll warn him not to."

"Boys will be boys." The woman sighed, "No matter how many times I tell Bran not to, he still continues to do it. Since you are taking care of Austin, you will be faced with the same treatment."

"He told you I wasn't his mother?" The healer asked, looking over her shoulder at the red-haired woman.

"I'm a mother myself; I can tell neither of you are family by blood." Amara nodded her head, understanding that much. "What I am here to speak to you about is about what transpired between you and Lady Esme." Amara played with the ends of her wet hair, eyeing that they hadn't even curled not once since they were drenched. It was in an attempt to be wavy, but it was still bent on trying to remain straight. She wanted to focus on anything so her mind didn't conjure up the image of Lady Esme.

Catelyn wondered if Amara would behave the slightest bit of sorry, but the woman kept her head held high even in her bath. The air about her was as if to say: _"I did nothing wrong."_ Catelyn's lips nearly quirked upward but remained thinned. "You do know you stepped out of bounds, don't you?"

"I was provoked." said Amara, saying it simply. "Am I wrong to believe that?"

"No, you are not." Amara was surprised that Catelyn agreed. "She did provoke you, but you could've been wiser and ignored her. I'm sure you're well aware of that, aren't you? Had Jon or Theon not been there, Lady Esme would've created a brawl and you would be at complete fault. The woman has great standing here, but she is blinded by her territorial behavior for my son. That's why I knew she was at fault."

"I have yet to understand why, because she is a noblewoman, that I would be blamed for a fight I did not set aflame." Confused, and bitter by this, she eyed the woman with a serious expression.

The Tully smirked at the young woman's bluntness, "Because she is a noblewoman and you are a healer; that's why. Her word would be taken over yours, isn't that the most logical?

"Aye." She nodded, knowing very well that was how the highborns worked. "And I… understand what you mean, Lady Stark." Despite how much she hated for that to be so, she understood it. Amara was an outsider, an outsider with a lowly rank at that.

"Have you found a cure or a name for the poison? Even the Maester has trouble discovering what it really is." Upon hearing the question, Amara straightened her legs in the tub and leaned her head against the rim.

"It's called "Eight Days of Ringing Bells", Lady Stark." She answered her, "It acts like a common flu but takes a deadly turn on the eighth day. The cure isn't in my medical journal, and I was hopeful that maybe someone might've heard of it before, but it seems this is something I will have to find out without any help."

Silence filled the room then, Lady Catelyn's hands gripped tightly onto the arms of the chair upon the news. "I will send letters to those I trust so that you aren't weighed down by taking complete responsibility."

"I don't want to trouble you, you are already dealing with the fact that your daughter has been poisoned." Amara had let out a sigh, slumping her shoulders. "Lord Stark said he will find who poisoned her, but I think you should help him. I will do my part by looking for the cure."

"You've grown fond of Arya, haven't you? Is that why you work so hard?" Catelyn asked, eyes gazing at the dancing flame in the fire pit.

"Even if I haven't grown fond of Lady Arya, I still would work just as hard." With a smile, she curled her feet, basking in the remaining warmth the water had. "My duty is to heal, and I would never do my job with only half the effort."

 **:::**

It was as she feared, the Great Hall was full and she could tell all from the voices she heard from outside the doors. She was afraid for she hadn't liked being surrounded by people, especially strangers. Even now, she felt like she would stand out from her clothes alone despite how simple it was. It had been a regular dress, a color of deep, red wine and black buttons down the middle with long sleeves. Her hair was neatly pulled back in what she considered a comfortable low, ponytail. Her look was eye-catching, especially since she was a stranger amongst the Starks.

Her eyes stared at the large doors made of oak and iron, thinking of turning back and going back to her chambers. Biting down on her lip, she took a step back, wanting to turn back until she heard someone call her name. "Miss Amara?" Squeezing her eyes shut, she knew she couldn't run now. Forcing them open, she slowly turned to find the piercing eyes of the eldest heir of Winterfell.

"Young Lord." She lowered her head and curtsied as he walked closer, closing the distance between them. There was a look of question on his face, with brow raised and a small smile.

"Ah," it dawned on him, "formalities since we're inside Winterfell, I see."

Despite the lightness in the air as well as the playfulness in his voice, it hadn't stopped the tenseness of her shoulders and coil in her stomach. "I'm sure you knew that once we were here, I couldn't comfortably call you by your name without adding lord before." Looking up at him, she gave him a half-smile.

"My mother would be infuriated if she knew." And to that, she let out a snort. She could imagine the angry look from the red-haired woman, and the questions of why she felt so comfortable to address her son in such a manner.

"I wouldn't even dream of saying that around her." Slowly loosening the muscles in her shoulders, she folded her hands before her. "Your mother is quite scary."

Keeping his smile, he shrugged his shoulders. "I know, but I think she likes you." She shook her head, unable to believe him. "No, I'm quite serious, I believe she does."

No matter what he said, she couldn't believe it. This time, she shook her head rather fiercely, "Lady Stark just scolded me before dinner." Her eyes looked down at her slippered covered feet, "I don't think she likes me but so much; it's more like she tolerates me."

"She only scolds people she likes. I know, she scolds me all the time." Her bottom lip began to quiver until she willed herself not to laugh. "But you look…different."

"Different?" Looking down at her clothes, she then decided to meet his eyes again. "Your mother gave me these." She admitted, "She said I needed to dress accordingly at dinner and my clothes are being cleaned." He gave her a nod of understanding as she adjusted the sleeves, "I miss my clothes."

Before he could say anything else, she watched a pair of slender arms snake themselves around one of his. As much as Amara was dreading this moment, she was greeted of the bright blue eyes of Esme. "Lord Robb," Her voice was silvery, her head tilted so that her eyes could drink up the sight of him. From this distance, they looked like they would be quite the good looking pair, if only Esme wasn't so snobbish and rude then she would've imagined them as perfect. "I was hoping we'd come to dinner together."

Taking a few steps back, she hoped that Esme wouldn't notice her. She had hoped that nobody would have and she could hurry back to her chambers, but as soon as she took another step back, she felt the back of her head hit something hard. "Oh!" She nearly jumped, quickly turning around. "Forgive me for…" Looking up, she looked up with wide eyes. "Jon?"

He greeted her with a smile, "Trying to run away?"

"Yes, I mean no!" She wanted to slap the palm of her hand against her head from the slip up. His laugh rang in her ears, making her cheeks puff up in frustration. "Jon!" She said sternly despite the corners of her lips quivering before she gushed out a laugh.

It felt good to laugh, especially since Esme was still eyeing her with scrutiny. Robb looked more mystified by the interaction as Amara's hands soon grabbed the sleeve of Jon's tunic. His eyes then gazed down at her in surprise, "Could you…" Feeling her mouth go dry and her request barely wanting to leave her lips, she looked up at him in a plea. "Could you escort me inside?"

Blithely, he gave her a nod. "C'mon." Relieved, she had held onto his arm as he opened the doors to let them in and she held in a breath as the sounds of conversations completely filled her ears. She could feel eyes burning her skin, which meant that several people fixated their eyes on her, but she found herself comfortable whenever she looked up at Jon. He kept a straight face, no smiles or anything. He did usher a few waves here and there, but hadn't looked happy at all.

Maybe it was because he coudn't sit with his family? Possibly, especially since he was a bastard. They wouldn't allow him to, and that made her feel sorry for him. Then again, this wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want anyone to pity him, at least that's what she thought. She, herself, did not like pity and she couldn't imagine someone that would. "Is it alright," Her eyes looked up at him to find him staring back down at her, "if I sit with you?"

She was good at surprising and she chuckled at the quizzical look on his face, "Are you sure?" He asked, wondering if she was sure if that was what she truly wanted.

With a smile, Amara nodded her head. "Aye."

Without a word, he led her to a table and she lifted her dress some to sit down comfortably. Her hands rested on in her lap after finally unlatching themselves from his arm. On the table to their left was Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn and their children. Austin was standing, eyes scouring the room in search for her until he found her. He came rushing over, wearing a nice red tunic and brown breeches. He looked nice as his hair was brushed neatly. His arms spread out and she let him fall into her as she wrapped her arms around him, "Amara, you look so pretty."

"You think so?" Even though the compliment left her glowing, a smile on her face, she still found herself disbelieving that she had done justice to this dress.

"Of course!" He pulled away from her hug, eyes gazing up at her as he kept his smile. "Bran and me got in trouble earlier for climbin', but it was fun; _not_ the trouble part though." Amara let out a soft laugh, rubbing the side of his head. "Are you mad too?"

"A little." She said truthfully, "You could've gotten seriously hurt."

"But I didn't!" His lips stuck out in a pout, "I was careful, I made sure of it."

Not wanting to argue and too lenient for her own good, she watched him sit down beside her. "I know, but no more of that."

"Okay." The sullen look on his face almost made her lose her resolve until Jon cut in.

"How high did you go?" He questioned, showing general interest. "Bran can almost climb up the keep." Startled while Austin sat amazed, Amara looked to Jon with eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I don't think Austin should try to do the same." Her voice was forceful, eyes glaring at Jon, who then saw the look of mischief in Austin's eyes.

He hadn't meant to make the boy even more determined to climb, but he thought it was harmless fun and Amara was just being strict like any mother would. "That's amazing!"

"Amazing and not for you to do." The young boy frowned instantaneously upon Amara's words and serious eyes, "Did you eat?"

"Not yet." He turned around, sitting right next to her. "I wanted to eat with you, so I waited."

It didn't take too long before the servants placed plates of food before them and Amara tilted her head upon the sight of the food. It looked appetizing yet odd, it was definitely something she never had before. "What's this?" She inquired Jon, her eyes looking up at him.

"Steak and kidney pie." He gave her a small smile and inclined his head towards the plate, "Try it." He saw the reluctance and without thought, she lowered her face to the food and took a few sniffs. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sniffing it!" She explained, "I usually sniff everything I eat."

"Afraid of being poisoned?" He asked, jesting but also curious.

With a roll of her eyes, she shook her head. "Sometimes I can tell if I'll like something from the smell of it."

Taking a forkful of his food, chewing as he watched her from the corner of his eyes. She poked the food twice before digging her fork in. She was afraid, that was obvious, but she was excited in some ways. After picking up a mouthful, she took a bite and winced since she hadn't expected it to be so hot.

Jon chuckled upon the sight of her face before it shifted into surprise, "Like it?"

She nodded, still chewing, as her hands raised to wipe her mouth but Jon took it upon herself to wipe away some of the food away from the corners of it. She froze under his care, eyes looking up at him.

He kept his smile before placing the napkin down, "What do you think of it?"

Reeling in from his act of kindness, she quickly tore her eyes away from him. "Savory." Amara answered after swallowing down the food. "I really like the flakiness of the pie."

Austin turned to look at her, a mouth full of food. "I like it!" Exasperated, she wiped his mouth quickly with a few daps of a napkin.

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" She chided him with a smile, "Make sure you eat until your plate is clean."

"Oh, don't mind me! I most certainly will!" It hadn't even been a second until he was digging in again, stuffing his mouth with the food. Amara sighed, shaking her head slowly as he lacked any kind of manners as Jon chuckled at her expense.

Turning to look at him, she gave him a deadpan expression. "You seem to find a lot of things humorous, Jon Snow."

"Its best I get out all my laughs before you become unreadable again." Confused, she knitted her brows together. "This is the most I've seen you talk, laugh, or do anything really."

Her dark blue eyes looked down at thought, knowing very well that there was some truth in his words. "I haven't had a reason to."

He nodded thoughtfully, "I suppose so… Now with Arya's condition, you had no reason. I went to see her and she looks better than she did when I first saw her."

"She isn't cured," Amara sighed, "but I can fight some of the effects by treating it like a cold until it gets worse."

"So you know what it is?" He asked as she nodded her head, "How long does she need?"

Poking at her food with her fork in thought, she slowly turned to look at him. "Five days. I need to give her the cure in five days."

The expression he made had made her eyes lower. He looked grim as he set his jaw and then sighed, interlocking his fingers to act like a bridge under his chin. He now felt the weight of the limited time they had, and she wished she could give the slightest bit of hopeful news.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note** : Thanks again to all the reviewers, faves and follows! I'm glad you're liking Amara and are going to see her unfold and the many different changes and ideas that'll happen in the main storyline, which I'll be getting to soon. And thanks to Anon, who spoke about me integrating Asian descent to Yi Ti. I always assumed it could be ( as well as Lengii ) and I made it so they are a combination of a whole lot Asian cultures but I've based Amara and her family/people on Mongolian culture, not by a whole lot but a great amount of influence. I feel that's refreshing take on things since so many other Asian-based concepts are based on Chinese and Japanese alone, and I think a new direction was needed. I'll still combine Chinese, Japanese, and other mixture of Asian elements in there ( probably not India/Middle East though since Dorne has a lot of those vibes ) but that's just my opinion/take on it.

* * *

The solitude of her apartment in the guest house of the castle made her anxiety become null. The fact that five days, starting tomorrow, was thrust upon her made her unable to ignore the quickness of time. Within these few days, they were also unable to find the culprit of who poisoned. Eddard had the chefs and servants who served and made Arya's food questioned, which was what justly had to be done. He didn't resort in torture since all of them were so compliant and gave excruciatingly honest answers, so that left everyone heading all the way back to square one. There was no one to point the finger to and no leading direction to the cure, and all of it would come rushing back to her as soon as the sun rose.

Austin had laid in her bed, having trouble sleeping by himself since he wasn't used to it. His father was always in a cot across the room and so he never in a room slept by himself before, especially in a foreign place; a castle at that. He felt more secure in her presence and so she slept on the sofa. Even though Austin was in her care, they were nowhere nearing a mother and son relationship. In fact, it felt odd for her to think she had a son since his life was thrust upon her. Although Amara cared for Austin, promising to love him as if he were her own, she wasn't quite used to the fact that she would raise him until he was grown and well enough able to care for himself.

There were no dreams that night. All there was, was darkness until she opened her eyes to come back to the rushing reality of the day before her. She left the sofa and sat in the chair, sitting in the darkness with her eyes staring at the newly lit fire that she now made in the fireplace. Sleep was never her priority in life, she would usually get four hours at most of it. The occupation of a healer didn't recall much sleep but she knew she was still human and it was required. How anyone could sleep for six hours or more amazed her, and she envied them. Nobody forced their occupation upon her, and so her jealousy felt empty and overall silly afterwards.

The flame danced to the same old tune as she saw it many times before. It illuminated parts of the room, especially her face. The expression one would see was a look of deep thought, her mind riddled of how she could find the cure to this poison within five days. Arya's eyes would appear in her mind until her whole face came to vision. The girl was far too young to die and she didn't want to be the one who failed her. That girl, so relentless, smart, and strong. Amara couldn't help but to think that the world would need her some day and poison couldn't be the way her life would end. It just didn't seem right and she wasn't one to romanticize fate or destiny either.

"Why are you still awake?" His voice was still laced with sleepiness and the corner of her lips quirked upon the drowsy tone he had. Austin was rubbing his eyes, trying to force himself to be more awake and alert but it was obvious he was still tired. He was a nosy boy, always curious about what she was doing and thinking, but she couldn't help but adore it since she rarely had anyone interested in her thoughts and feelings.

"I was just thinking." Amara answered him, open and honestly as her hand reached to brush his hair from his face. "Why are you awake, little one?" She tilted her head, showing a playful glint in her eyes with an inquisitive tilt of her head. "You are still tired."

"No," His mouth opened in a big yawn, "I'm… not." Smacking his lips, his eyes slowly opened to look at her before boldly sitting on her lap. He nestled himself in a comfortable position, disregarding if she would like his actions or not. _Children_ , that was the most logical answer. "Are you thinkin' of how to save Lady Arya?"

Surprised, but not so much, her slender fingers combed through his soft, curly locks as she held him close. "Aye." Her eyes looked down at him, seeing his own were closed as he rested his head on her shoulder. "Are you worried about me?"

"I am." His honest reply made a full smile on her lips, "What if you can't find the cure? She'll die and you'd be sad."

It seems the grim reality of the situation was soaking into him, and he was already thinking the worse. Her hands never ceased their steady stroke, keeping her finger flowing through his hair. "I won't let that happen." There was more than just Amara being sad; she would have failed Jon and Robb, and no doubt Lord and Lady Stark wouldn't look so kindly upon her inability to save their daughter. There was more than just her being "sad" depending on this mission alone.

He hadn't spoke again. As she expected, he fell back asleep in her arms. Laying her head atop of his, she watched the flame with a different expression; no longer of thought but of determination now.

 **:::**

Morning had came and the first thing she decided to do was see Maester Luwin. Although he had no idea what ailed Arya, he could be able to help her with cure, at least that Amara was sure of. Her walk up the steps was a silent one and as her mind was reading through the many thoughts that came through it. The whole pressure of five days certainly left her feeling weighed to the ground and her shoulders slumped as if heavy weights rested on them. Amara wasn't exactly doing her best to lift her spirits up neither, or taking in mind of her own physical health. She skipped breakfast and urged Austin to go on without her but the boy kicked and whine about going alone and how he wanted to eat with her. It was odd, certainly, to have a child always by her side and them having constant need of your attention. Even though she spent her days with the village children during her many travels, they would eventually leave her to rightfully go home and be with their parents. Now that she was Austin's guardian, he was always with her. She was his new home.

Amara only figured that he was so clingy to her now since he lost his father. These were painful times for him and as much as she wanted to console him, hold him until his grieving heart patched itself together, she couldn't. In due time, he'd request space when she was the one who wanted to spend time with him, and she'd have to face that. Although it had hurt her to deny him, she had to for Arya's sake. Austin would always be able to spend time with her, but Arya's days were numbered now. It would've been easy to tell Austin that, but it wouldn't be fair. He was only a child and he would have selfish outbursts every now and then; Even though Austin was capable of understanding the dire situation that was thrust upon her, he was just a kid too. A kid with needs that needed to be met like any other.

The healer wanted to check Arya herself, but since she decided to meet with Luwin, she would visit her later. She suggested that the girl eat porridge for breakfast and be given a cup of elderflower tea an hour later. Since they knew what ailed her, they would have to make sure that she ate well enough since there were times where Arya would feel too nauseous to eat. A new symptom would come today, and Amara hoped that it was nothing too severe.

When she reached Maester Luwin's turret after climbing up the short spiraling staircase, she knocked twice and stood patiently with her hands behind her. Her eyes observed the door before looking down the stairway absently. When the door finally opened, she smiled upon the surprised look on the old man's face. "Miss Amara, I didn't expect you to come here today." Despite his surprise, he looked more embarrassed by the state of his room than her arrival.

"I wanted to discuss with you on the possible cures, and about the poison." Amara then inclined her head towards the room, "May I… come in?"

"Of course." Stepping side, he opened the door wider and Amara walked in but made sure to be careful to step over and not on a few books that laid scattered on the floor. As soon as she heard the door shut behind her, she turned to him. "You've figured out the name of the poison?"

"It is called "Eight Days of Ringing Bells", Maester." He looked puzzled and in some ways, intrigued.

"I've never heard something like that before." Luwin went on to say, his face etched in an expression of thought. "Eight days is how long the person has to live?"

"Yes." Lowering her eyes in thought, she sighed. "The Ringing Bells plays an an effect of warnings of the poison; each day there is a new symptom and they worsen as the days go on. The first few days seem like a regular illness, which would make someone mistaken it for a random strike of sickness that most children are afflicted with due to the weakness of their bodies." Her hands grabbed the edge of a desk, slowly leaning forward as she continued her explanation. "It's supposed to elude that it isn't poison, which means this person was trying to make Lady Arya's death seem like a random illness than an act of murder."

The Maester's head slowly moved in a nod, the wheels in his head turning as everything started to make sense. "And because Arya isn't the regular sort of naive, they laced it in her food so she wouldn't notice." He added, which made her nod in return in agreement. "This person is playing a very dangerous game."

"This person needs to be caught." Amara set her jaw, "Whoever they are, they are quite sly. How they managed to lace her food without the chefs or servants knowing is beyond me… Unless, of course, someone is lying."

"I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary." Tugging around the chain around his neck, his eyes stared down at the floor. "And whoever this person may be, they might attack one of the other children next."

"I don't think this person is that bold, Maester." Pursing her lips, she mindlessly picked up one of the few books that laid on top of the table and flipped through it. "This person is _very_ calculating."

"Well, what are the symptoms that Lady Arya currently has? If we can rid them, then we might be able to rid all the future ones to come."

With a smile, she gave a quick nod. "First, she was given sudden fever, which comes and goes, mind you. When it returns, it gets higher and leaves her palms balmy and her forehead soaked with sweat. A sore throat and dizziness soon came along, but what happens today? I have no idea just yet."

"What have you given her to help her? I noticed her throat wasn't nearly as sore as the second day." He smiled, trying to show incredulous he had been to what she managed to accomplish so far.

"Peppermint tea." Tucking a long and dark lock of hair behind her ear, she slowly let her eyes look up at him. "That's just a simple remedy that anyone could've done."

"Peppermint doesn't grow much in this part of the north, but we have plenty of mint bushes." Luwin explained, "But I should make sure we grow some in the Glass Gardens."

"In the Glass Gardens?" Curious, her eyes widened a fraction. "What other flowers and herbs grow in the Glass Gardens?"

"A great many things." Luwin smiled, "You deserve a tour of it, who knows what you might be able to put into use there." Nodding quickly, she found herself insanely curious of what was grown there. Although Amara was just a natural fan of flowers themselves due to how she was raised, but what had enraptured her attention all more was because there were a great many things in her mother's medical journal that she had never seen before. Many flowers she needed during her travels that she could not find, and so to see them and hopefully take a few would've eased her greatly. "But if the fevers ever grows too high, sunflower petals will help." Luwin quickly suggested, "Though I sincerely hope it won't come to that."

Never in her seventeen years of life had she seen a sunflower, but the way her mother had drawn it made her curiosity reminiscent of a child's. In this very moment, she was halfway daring to act on impulse to hurry out of the turret and find the greenhouse miraculously on her own. The only thing that stopped her was her Gods' forsaken pride, that left her feet firmly planted on the floor despite the slight quiver in the muscles of her legs that wanted to sprint. Amara had to remind herself not to get too cared away anyway, were sunflowers even in bloom this time of year? Since they sun was in their name, weren't they perhaps summer flowers? In the drawings, they looked like they would bloom in that type of year, but it was still summer despite how much it was nearing its end.

"What I can also suggest," His voice broke her out of her thoughts, "is that you keep on with what you are doing. You've done for Lady Arya more than I could in the short time you've been here, Miss Amara. You may be young, but you are spectacular in the healing arts."

The young woman stood there, eyes big and staring as she immediately began to fiddle her fingers together. In a flustered fashion, she shifted all her weight to her right foot, lightly swaying the ends of her skirt, with her lips parted to speak yet she forced them closed. Never in her years of life had seen been able to accept compliments, it was hard for her. It left her feeling giddy yet cringing, no matter who it came from. Not wanting to insult him by dismissing it, she gave a slight bow. "Thank you, Maester Luwin." Her voice sounded tiny, akin to how she felt from his words.

"Now go on to the Glass Gardens, I'll try to find anything I can about this poison." His smile was genial, making her smile in return as well as full in hopefulness.

With another bow, she turned to leave his room but then ceased her actions. "I would also like you to find anything, stories or poems as well as songs that have Ringing Bells. Sometimes people like to harm those in ways they deem creative in art, if you don't mind." Luwin looked at her, skeptically but then thoughtfully. He then gave a nod and she left, making her down the short stairway from which she came.

Amara would have to ask someone to accompany her to the greenhouse, but she didn't have the slight idea of whom to ask. The first person that came to mind was Jon, she was sure he would. Though she had wanted to avoid him, remembering the odd closeness during dinner yesterday, which made her want to separate for him since she wasn't sure how to act or feel in his presence now. Robb was the second person that came into thought, seeing as they were amicable enough and he seemed that he would kind enough to take her if she asked. The healer even had her reservations about him as well, she didn't want to bother him first and foremost, and then the thought of Lady Esme breathing down her neck was off putting to boot.

Her third choice was Lady Catelyn, she was sure the woman would help her because of her cause. They had a comfortable distance with one another, but Amara was sure she was too busy trying to find out who poisoned Arya to help take her to a greenhouse. She couldn't pester Lady Catelyn, especially when it didn't concern of catching the culprit.

Standing in the middle of the corridor, lost and unsure of what to do. The healer found herself twisting the ends of her hair in mild anxiety and a drawing sense of loss of what to do. Perhaps it would've been wise to ask Maester Luwin to accompany her when she had the chance even though he seemed quite busy from the research he offered and the ones she asked for. Her head slowly turned in the direction that led to his turret and found herself caught in the notion of going back as well as moving forward.

"Miss Amara." Her feet firmly planted themselves in the ground as a gasp slipped out, her head quickly whipped to look at Robb, who stood with half a smile adorning his face just a few feet from her.

"You scared me!" Her voice began as a whisper but ended close to a yell, her hand rested above her heart as she quickly tried to calm its stammering and soothe the painful yet quick pang it suffered from the shock of fear. Now that she gathered herself, she also wanted to kick herself. How could she raise her voice at him like that? It was insulting.

Yet he did not seem the slightest bit of bothered by the volume of her voice. In fact, you could say he found her reaction downright humorous as his smile only grew in size as his feet took him a few steps forward in her direction. "I didn't think anything could scare you, Miss Amara." His head tilted in an playful razzing kind of way, and his brow arched after the movement. "Now I know."

"Please." Now finding herself in a disposition that she felt comfortable with, she shook her head in the process. "Don't make this a habit, Young Lord." Her voice was nearly pleading, but also having a hint of a smile in it.

The title ended his fun, and left him perplexed more than anything. "Why do you call me Young Lord, but you call Jon by his name?" He asked, his face revealing his confusion for her to see.

Her brows knitted together in thought as well as befuddlement. Her head slightly tilted to the right as she looked up at him. "Jon told me to call him by his name." As she answered, Amara's eyes reflected the scene that stayed in her memory; down the from the expression he gave her and even the tone the baseborn Stark spoke in. "He said that because he is a bastard that he has no title, so it wouldn't make sense for me to give him one. I answered his wishes, Young Lord."

A sudden wave of insight came across his features as his head moved in a slow but comprehending nod. "I see." His voice was empty, making her unable to read him and fearful that he found her actions disrespectful. "I would feel more than comfortable if you answered my wishes and called me Robb as well."

"I can't." Amara immediately rejected, not giving his suggestion a glimmer of thought. "You are the heir to Winterfell, the Young Lord of the North. I will call you that as I should, I am no one special and should not be given special permission to address you anything less."

He knew, just from the way her she stood that she wasn't going to back down, even if he challenged it. Although he, himself, did not like formalities, he knew they were a must; simply the way of his life since he was born. It just made him feel distant from others since he couldn't enjoy close friendships like normal people had. The roles of ranks came in-between every relationship he tried to forge, breaking away any closeness that could've been made. "…Alright, I won't fight you on it… _for now_." He wanted to laugh at the sight of her quick frown, but chose to keep a straight face. "I am curious to what you are doing in the middle of the hall. You seem lost, are you?"

Torn. That's what she was. She was torn on whether or not to tell him the truth because she knew if he had discovered she had no idea to go to the greenhouse then he would accompany her. Although Amara did not fear Lady Esme, for she had dealt with the woman head on before, she knew that she couldn't risk herself the trouble after falling into impulse before. The healer wanted to stay away from the noblewoman as much as possible and give her less reason to see her again, but that also meant staying away from Robb.

Should Robb suffer a cold shoulder because Esme loved him possessively so? That didn't seem fair, and she felt guilty for thinking that. Twirling the ends of her hair around her pointer finger, over and over, she tried to decide what would be the best course of action. "It's…" Forcing herself to look up at him, she decided to be honest without the damning fault with it. "It's not that I am lost, Young Lord." She resisted the urge to sight, "It is that I do not have the slightest clue to the way of the Glass Gardens."

"Oh?" Not at all surprised, he then offered his arm out of her for propriety purposes. "Would you like me to escort you?"

Her eyes felt like they were staring so hard that she could burn holes clean through his sleeve-covered arm. It wouldn't take a genius or two to show how hesitant she was for that was much too clear. Amara didn't want to be for many reasons, but the highest reason was because she felt it might offend him. Why wouldn't he be offended by her lack of eagerness for help from him? Amara slowly raised her hand, slowly going to link her arm with his but then shook her head and pulled away after allowing the alarms in her head to sound off. "I can't trouble you." Her head shook, a smile forcing itself on her lips. "You _must_ have other things to do."

"If I were busy," He inclined his head towards her with his eyes staring at her in attempts to read her, "I would've never offered, Miss Amara."

The chuckle that left her didn't sound at all pleasing or filled with humor but just downright brittle. Her eyes beheld him in shaky irresolution, which he could not help but catch and wanted to ask about. Her behavior was just too strange and unlike herself. It was until her ears caught wind of footsteps coming from behind Robb that she tore her eyes away from him. Her eyes soon lit up upon the sight of the person coming towards them.

Robb noticed her distracted eyes, and also keened in to hear the approaching footsteps. He slowly turned and smiled upon the sight of who had came, "Jon, what are you doing here?" He inquired, genuinely curious. "I thought you were practicing in the training yard."

Jon, as he should be, was entirely confused. His dark brows furrowed as he looked back between his half brother and the healer, who stood awkwardly near one another. "I had just finished and thought I see the Maester. Theon accidentally grazed Fat Tom's cheek with an arrow during their game."

"Fat… Tom?" Bewildered by such a name, she stood there with eyes swirling with confusion and somewhat distraught on her face. Both brothers chortled upon her expression, which left her almost offended since they were humored by her genuine curiosity.

"He's a big fellow," Robb decided to clarify on his own accord, " _hence_ the name."

"I gathered that." She looked at him pointedly, lips sitting out in a well-seen pout. "I just can't wrap my mind around why someone would _like_ to be called that."

Marveling at this new expression, Jon's eyes stayed glued to her face as he gave his own explanation. "Nobody ever told him to put down the fork. He's the reason why he has the name, and he wears it proudly."

Unable to hold back, she let out an inelegant snort and kept her face warmed with a smile. "That still doesn't prove to be nice." Keeping her smile, she had then took a few steps closer so they weren't all scattered about in the hall.

"Did I interrupt something?" Jon finally asked, "I was on my way, I can keep on."

"No," Robb shook his head, "I was just about to escort Miss Amara to the Glass Gardens. She doesn't know how to get there."

"And _I_ was telling Lord Robb that he didn't _have_ to take me." Amara looked up at him, catching the piercing Tully eyes of the highborn Stark that glanced back down at her.

"She seems to think that I am unable to walk her." Glancing at his brother, he kept his brow arched. "No matter how many times I tried to tell her that I am most certainly free to aid her."

Jon's lips quirked upward, rather forcefully. "I assure you, Amara, Robb can get you there if you let 'im."

Inwardly frustrated by Jon's help, she gave him a quick glare before shifting her gaze back to Robb. "Alright, I _won't_ argue anymore. I will not take your arm though, Lady Esme would breathe fire like a second coming of a dragon if I do."

Chuckling, he gave an understanding nod. "I won't force you."

Crinkling her eyes, she then looked to Jon. "Have fun with Maester Luwin, and watch your step. It is quite messy in there."

"I'm used to it." With a titter, she walked alongside Robb and gave Jon a slight bow farewell. He gave her a firm nod in goodbyes, which made her a little sad since they would be parting. Her eyes then tried to focus on something else and happened to pick up on the way the Young Lord walked beside her. Robb's strides weren't as long as she remembered them as he was being kind enough to let them keep the same pace.

As Jon continued forward, he stopped halfway to turn around, catching Robb and Amara in the middle of a conversation. From this distance he had gained now, he couldn't at all hear what they were saying. It all sounded like mumbles now. His eyes caught on to the teeth-bearing smile Amara gave Robb, and the copied one he gave her in return. Right then and there, he thought that the two of them would've been an attractive-looking couple. Not even that, they looked like a happy and real one.

It was easy to believe that they could become one. After all, all the girls loved him and he was sure Amara would also be enticed to his natural born charms like most women were. And like every time before, now again, he couldn't help but to feel jealous. Though his reason being wasn't because of his brother's charisma but more so of whom he was now able to allure. He found himself rather daunted by that revelation, and even clenching his hands in annoyance that he found himself attracted the healer.

As they walked, Amara's eyes found themselves wanted to look back at Jon, just to get a glimpse of his back as he walked in the opposite direction of them. Once Robb found interest in looking ahead, Amara slowly peered over her shoulder and was surprised to see Jon's eyes locking right into her own. Confused, she tilted her head slightly as he noticed that she was staring straight back at him. Awkwardly, he immediately turned and made his way up the stairs and she couldn't help but let loose a sad smile.

The walk to the gardens was a comfortable one, sometimes filled with conversation and the other times of cozy silence. There were rare times where silence between two people was pleasant, and she was glad that Robb wasn't the type to needlessly have to fill empty space with unneeded words. There were many eyes watching them since they've made their way outside and gossips of why the two were together and alone for that matter. Amara wondered if Robb rarely walked with a woman by himself or if he had done so several times but it always made brows raise and lips loose. He was an attractive man; she was not blind and she knew very well that many girls would be happy to even be able to capture just a fraction of his attention. Though there was more than just looks with him, it was his warm personality that could really reel you in like a fish chasing bait. He also made anyone with him feel safe, which was a rarity in itself.

Observing and getting to know all of this, only made her all the more hopeful that the both of them could be friends. He was kind, funny, and he did his best to help her whenever he could. The healer could very well admit that she wasn't use to that kind of kindness from most men her age. They weren't nearly as polite nor as sweet, but she couldn't help but think Jon was also. The Starks raised their boys well, and she could only hope that she could raise Austin to be the same. "How does it feel?"

"What?" Shaking her head, she pulled the absent haze from her eyes to focus on him. "How does what feel?"

"To be a mother." Robb said, looking towards her as they kept going in the direction the North gate.

Mother? It left her still for a moment until she finally registered what he truly meant. "Mother…" She mumbled, not so sure that she could honestly say she felt like one at all. "I just kept thinking that I was just the boy's guardian, really." A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips, "But I think, deep down, I want _him_ to look at me that way."

"Austin never had one, right? I'm sure he doesn't even begin to know how it would feel to have one." With a slight grin, he look down to see her eyes staring down at the ground. "But he'll assume that how you treat him is how a mother is meant to be."

That made sense. Austin's mother died when he was just a toddler and so all his memories of her were nearly nonexistent. He couldn't remember how she looked, the sound of her voice, or what color her eyes were. All his memories of her were just stories from his father that became an imagination. He also had to watch other children with their mothers to even get a glimpse of what it was really like too.

"I don't want to disappoint him." Her shoulders went up and down in a shrug, trying not too sound too disheartened by her fears. Amara didn't want to sound like she didn't have things under control, but she couldn't help but be honest about her worries. "I remember my mother and how warmly she treated me as well as the values she instilled, but I don't know if I could do that for Austin. A connection between mother and child is usually forged naturally by blood and birth. How can I naturally do for him like a real mother as a foster one?"

Her stress of the situation made clear sense to him, and he felt saddened that he didn't know how to correctly help. "I have no idea what it takes to be a mother." His eyes lit up as the laughed she so desperately tried to suppress managed to slip through.

"I didn't think you did, Young Lord." Her slant eyes crinkled in her amusement, letting the laugh die in efforts to not be mocking.

Robb went onto continue, his eyes watching her as she kept her eyes focused on her feet. "But what I do know is that my mother would fight Gods for me and the way Austin looks at you, I know he knows you'd fight for him too."

"Lady Stark is a very strong woman." Amara commented, "I don't think I could ever be as strong as she is, especially now with her daughter's life numbered until she is cured."

"That's because my mother has faith in the Gods, and she has faith in _you_. As I said before, she _likes_ you." And like that time before, she had a hard time believing him. It was to the point she looked up at him rather deadpanned. He chuckled at the sight of it, shaking his head. "I know my mother well. Believe me, I do."

With a sigh, she watched as the gate open before them. "I'm not saying you don't, my lord. I just think your judgement is just a little bit off the mark when it comes to her feelings towards me is all."

"We're almost there." He warned, leaving her nodding. "But seriously, you think my judgement is off? About my _own_ mother?" Amara was annoyed by the sight of his quivering lips since he knew just how to get under her skin, and she was hating that very much.

She forced her eyes away from him, "That isn't what I mean… Oh, just drop it already."

His head tilted back, releasing a hearty laugh at her frustrations. Amara was forced to listen to it, her arms crossed as she could see the tall, clear building getting closer. The excitement she had to see it before came rushing back, her steps a little quicker now.

"It is easy to get you riled up." It wasn't a lie, her temper could flare easily. Although she was sure both Jon and himself were amazed by it because she had done a good job at masking her emotions well. There was no need to pretend or to be wary of them anymore, they never gave her a reason to not trust them. So being herself came easy and she didn't need to feel guarded. In fact, she felt relieved that she did not have to mask herself.

Grabbing the handle of the greenhouse door, he motioned his hand for her to go first. Her nod came hesitantly, weakly, as she walked in with her skirts in her hands as she lifted them enough for her to easily climb over the threshold to go inside. As soon as she was in, skirts down, her head tilted back and her eyes were shimmering with excitement. The place was more beautiful than she expected as she was drinking up the sight of so many flowers, vegetables, fruits, and herbs that she had never seen before. Even the scents that flowed out of them attacked her nostrils in an overwhelming but also pleasant way that made her lips curl up in a smile instantaneously.

Another thing about this place was that it was warm, so warm. It was all so very warm in here. It felt like the spark and desire of Summer, which made her wish she had short sleeves to bask in it. As she was taking all of this in, Robb took a step forward and closed the door to the green house in a gentle shut behind him. "There's a hot spring underneath the garden." Listening but also moving on curiosity, she walked over to the bushes of mints that Luwin told her about. "That's why it is so warm in here." His blue eyes followed her, watching the way her eyes seem to twinkle in their amused gaze as her hands reached out to rub her thumbs against the petals of a bush of flowers in wonder.

Not taking her eyes away from the flower, she kept up with the conversation. "Is that why the castle is warm as well?" The healer queried, she turned in time to see a nod for an answer. "How? Is it underneath the castle too?"

"There are pipes in the walls with hotspring water running clean through it." Her lips parted in surprise, digesting the information as he eyed her. "Never heard of that before?"

Her head move in a slow shake as she glanced over at him with a small smile. "I suppose the people in the North had to think out of the walls plenty of times to fight the bitter woes of Winter."

"I'm afraid that the Winter took too many lives, so we had to adapt against it." Robb returned her smile with one of his own, watching her head absently nod.

Gnawing on her bottom lip, her hands interlocked as she turned to face him. "Are there…" Clearing her throat, she continued with her question. "Are there sunflowers in here?" Amara was almost afraid that the giddiness in her voice was apparent despite how desperately she tried to keep her voice free of it.

His head tilted in thought, his hand rubbing his stubbled chin as he tried to think of what a sunflower was. "A sunflower? I'm not sure I recall what they look like." The young lord had no idea when it came to flowers and their names. He only knew a few because he saw them in more than one occurrence but he was unsure if he had seen the flower she was asking about.

"They are very tall…" Taking a few steps away from the flowers close to her, she held her hands up high to describe the height of it like a small child would. "Taller than you and I." Robb watched in amusement as she had became so carried away in her curiosity and excitement that she failed to realize she just what exactly what she was doing or how she acted. For the very few times, he was getting a glimpse of her as a girl of seventeen and not the mature woman she constantly presented herself to be. This was the true her, still very childish as well as grown. "The center is very big, round and brown but the petals are a bright, bright yellow. You could say they remind you of the sun hence the name being sunflower."

His eyes slit closed as he tried to imagine the flower in his head from her oral description. After a few seconds, they snapped open. "I think I know just what you're talking about." With a grin, he motioned his hand for her to follow. She had ran a little ways to keep up with him as he brought her further into the greenhouse. As they reached the back, her eyes grew in size as her mouth went agape. "Is this it? The sunflower you're looking for?"

Hurrying on past him, she was amazed to see that the flower was taller than she even imagined. She knew they were tall, but to this height? She had no idea. The green stem with so many leaves was long and strong, but the petals? They were what drew her in and they were insanely bright, brighter than she imagined they would be. "This is it!" She nodded hurriedly, "These are sunflowers!"

"You've never seen them before?" His steps were slow as he made his way beside her as Amara glanced at him and then back at the flower, marveling at the difference between heights. It was clear she was the smallest out of the three but she never cared about how short she was to most people, especially to the people of Westeros. It was odd though, that this flower was taller than anyone she could ever recall meeting her life. It was gigantic.

"Never." Her retort sounded almost breathless as she was still in shock. "It is in my medical journal," She explained, "my mother drew it, so she must've seen them before and Maester Luwin just taught me they do good for really high fevers. I always was interested to see how they looked in person and it has exceeded my expectations. If Lady Arya's fever grows worse, this would surely take it away."

"Is that why you wanted to come here?" The young heir questioned, "To find Arya's cure?"

Her head whipped to him, her nod immediate afterwards. "Of course." Amara had then sighed, "I still have no idea what the antidote is but that doesn't mean I'm not going to try to find out."

"Father still hasn't found the culprit either, and my mother is growing frustrated by the day." His shoulders slumped as he let his sigh bring him down as well, "I was trying to help figure it out too, but I keep coming out empty handed."

Sympathetically, her hand rested itself on his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Do not stress yourself, my lord." Her eyes then ventured away from him, looking back at the sunflower as she continued on. "I'm sure this person will be brought to justice. They cannot run forever."

Her words gave him little encouragement, but he was grateful by the action instead. The smile he gave her was weak, but she knew that it was because he tried to look positive. Pulling her hand away and letting her arm fall back to her side limply, her eyes had caught something in the corners and she turned to see what attracted them. It was a bush of flowers, but these flowers were not ordinary. No, they seemed to draw her close, making her feet move on their own accord as her eyes never strayed from them.

Instinctively, her hand reached out to touch them and she marveled at just how soft they were against her fingers. Her hand lightly cupped the flower head as she leaned in, letting her nose be filled by the sweet scent that assailed her nostrils. These flowers were nothing she had ever seen or smelled before, but she found herself oddly attracted; spontaneously attracted to it. "What are these?" Amara managed to ask, desperately wanting to know.

"Blue Winter Roses." His answer left her in awe, seeing how the name fitted the flowers to the core. The petals were such a pale blue, reminding one of frost itself as the petals were not only soft but also strong, so rooted that it would take some strength to pull it. "My father makes sure they continue to grow here. He says they were my aunt's favorite flowers."

In attempts to stop her gawking and her constant need to keep sniffing them, she failed to try to look away from them. "I can see why. My mother has never seen these, but I guess they only grow in the North?"

"I have no idea for sure, but I believe they do." Was Robb's honest reply. "I just simply think they are pretty flowers, but most flowers are. I don't think much of them."

It was something she figured any ordinary man would say and left her with a smile. Pulling herself away from them, she looked up at him in thought. "I usually don't have a favorite, I've seen so many beautiful ones in my life that I find myself unable to pick a favorite. When I was young, I was in love with Cherry Blossoms and then I fell for Wisterias, but they were both trees that simply grew flowers." Looking back at the blue roses, she noticed the thorns on the stems. "But I think I've fallen for these flowers. These Blue Winter Roses."

 **:::**

After her trip in the garden, she had taken an array of things with her ( with permission, of course ). Robb had picked out a few of the Blue Winter Roses and gave them to her as a gift, leaving her surprised and happy at the act of kindness. She had them put in a vase, quickly filled with water, but she knew they wouldn't live long that way and they would slowly wither and die. Before that could happen, she would put them into great use because she was sure they had medicinal properties like most roses had. After she settled them on the end table in her room, which was empty of anything on its surface, she decided to visit Arya to see how she was fairing and if the new symptom decided to show itself yet.

Sansa stood in front of her sister's door again, her face contorting in nervousness. Her back poise straight, but her eyes were looking heavy. She stared at the door and would probably leave like she had before. This time, Grant stood to the side as if to let Sansa be able to go in if she wanted. Maybe he thought the girl would eventually cave and just visit her sister despite the way they came at each others throats.

Amara had begun to hear some of the stories of how the Stark sisters weren't exactly the sweetest to each other, but the healer knew that at the end of it all, they both loved one another. Sansa's presence made that clear. In the girl's eyes, you could see she wanted to see her and also wondering if Arya wanted to see her too. Seeing as how this was something they had to work out among themselves, Amara stayed out of it and watched until Sansa decided to leave.

As soon as the red-haired girl turned, she was shocked yet again to see Amara standing there. "Healer." She gave her acknowledgement, polite and lady-like as she was last time.

"Lady Sansa." With a slight curtsy, she kept her smile as she saw the young girl walk forward. "I should keep quiet again?" Amara asked, slight jest in her tone.

Sansa managed to force a smile and pleading eyes with a nod, "Please."

Closing her eyes and giving a firm nod, she could hear a sigh of relief leave the young girl as she walked down the hall and possibly to her own room. Prying her eyes open, Amara had gone forward, grabbing Grant's attention as he nodded in acknowledgement and she did as well. Knocking on the door, she waited to hear a reply.

"Come in…" Hearing the voice from the other side, Amara let herself in to see Arya sitting upright and looking as if she wasn't ill at all; that is, if you ignored how pale she was. Her eyes looked up, somewhat surprised by the sight of the healer. "I didn't think you weren't coming until later."

"I wanted to see you immediately, but I was sure that you are growing tired of my face." The healer smirked as she heard Arya's snort, she was growing used to the girl's teasing sense of humor. Shutting the door close behind her, Amara walked forward until she stood beside the girl's bed. "May I check your temperature?"

Rolling her eyes, the young brunette sighed. "Sure." With a chuckle, the healer placed her hand on the girl's forehead and was relieved to know her fever was gone. For now.

"How was breakfast? Did the tea help?" Amara asked before taking a seat and pulling it beside the girl's bed.

"Porridge is disgusting." In all her inelegant glory, Arya snarled in disgust, "And the tea wasn't sweet enough. I didn't like it much either."

"I didn't think you would, but most things that don't taste good are very much good for your health." Folding her hands in her lap, she could tell that the child hadn't liked her answer. "Have you walked around?"

"Yes," Arya answered, "my back and legs didn't feel sore like I thought they would. Is it because of the tea?"

Amara nodded, "It helps, but I mainly gave it to you to boost your immunity." She answered, "That way you won't catch a cold while you're like this. The worst thing that could happen to you is you getting sick on top of this."

"The worst thing that could happens is that I die." Frowning, Amara gazed down at her lap as Arya absently meddled with furs of the blankets. "I don't want to." Her voice was low, her teeth chewing her bottom lip.

"I don't want you to either." Arya slowly looked up at her, seeing her sincere expression. "And I _won't_ let you."

It was painful, it always was; the hardened and fearful expression on a child's face. Most of them wept when they knew their days were coming to an end, so soon and before they could grow to a teen or even touch adulthood. This girl, this wolf girl, had fear but chose not to weep. Maybe she refused to cry in Amara's presence or maybe she had already contended that death may come so tears proved useless. "You can't even find the cure! Nobody can! So how can you stop it?! How will you not let it?!" She snapped, her eyes staring coldly at the woman. "I'm just a weak, little girl and now I'm going to die afraid and poisoned by a bloody coward!

The healer didn't flinch nor blink under the glare or accusations that was towards her. Amara understood her anger, it was justified. In some ways, the young Stark was mature and it nearly made her smile, but she chose not to because her smile was prove unwanted and insensitive. It would not convey her sympathy to the girl's plight. "May I hold your hands, my lady?"

"Hold my hands? What for?" Arya questioned, not understanding what the point of the action would be. Amara hadn't answered her, but instead presented her hands to her in efforts to encourage her. Biting down on her lower lip, her eyes stared at the white palms before irritatingly placed her small hands in the woman's petite one's.

The healer grasp onto Arya's hands, not too tightly but not too loosely; just a comfortable balance, and giving the child's hands a feeling of warmth. Arya hadn't wanted to admit it but she felt comforted by the action, but she was unsure if she should accept it or pull herself away from it. Amara, in every sense of the word, was still strange to her. Not once had Amara raised her voice at her, chided her or even treated her like a child. Not once had she told her that she was behaving disrespectfully or unladylike, but she took her anger and silence in smiles. What kind of person was she? A strange one, one Arya wasn't sure if she could fully trust.

"You admire heroes; the likes of Nymeria, Khiara, and even your lorD father." The tone of her voice was soothing, even the way her thumbs brushed against the Stark girl's knuckles had made Arya's temper simmer without her wanting it to. "You admire them because you think they are fearless, don't you?" Grey had met dark blue, but the lighter color pupils were shrouded in skepticism but also surprise. "Heroes, my lady, are never without fear; they are _not_ fearless. Heroes are brave, that is without question, but bravery has requirements. The main requirement for bravery is fear, but do you know what fear is born from, my lady?"

Amara waited as Arya looked in thought, trying to come up with the answer on her own. When she wasn't able to or wasn't too sure about the answer she might've had, she shook her head. "Fear is birthed from the heart. It is born from loving something." Her hands gave Arya's a tender squeeze, hoping that her words would reach her.

"Why would we fear something we love?" She was asked, Arya's brows furrowed in uncertainty as she tried to find the answer in Amara's eyes. "Shouldn't love make us courageous or fools? Why should we gain fear from love?"

It was refreshing how honest she was but that was the way of children. They were painfully honest and that is why Amara enjoyed talking to them. Her eyes sparked in happiness as she went on to explain, "Because losing what we love is what we fear most, that's how fear is born. You love your life, do you not?" The young Stark seemed stunned by the question but then gave a firm nod. "And you love your life too much to lose it, and that is how your fear was born. Just from the fact that you might lose something you love. Love can do many things and that is also why it is a requirement for bravery too." Letting the pad of her thumb brushed the soft skin of the girl's knuckles, she watched Arya's expression shift to one of deep thought thought. "You've been such a strong person for me, my lady. Don't lose your strength because your strength _can_ be and _is_ the most impenetrable armor that you could ever wear in your entire life. I will find a cure. All I need is for you to trust me, as much if not more, as I trust you to keep on being strong for me."

Silence befell the room and lingered for seconds and then minutes. It hadn't bother her, knowing that the girl had to process everything. Amara was just astonished that Arya did not pull her hands away, and for a second she almost thought she felt the girl's small hands give her a squeeze in return. Amara knew that patience was key to gaining Arya's trust, but she hadn't realized that the girl presented more to her herself than she would've thought. Maybe it was because she was vulnerable now and when she was cured and back to her normal self, she might shut her out.

They just sat there, Arya's eyes staring so daringly into Amara's own as if she was if trying to find any hint of a lie or reason to ignore the words of encouragement. The healer stayed true, her eyes showing probity and her firm stance to what she spoke. The emptiness of words lingered on quite a little longer until the one corner of Arya's small lips lifted up into a smirk and Amara gave a smile in kind.

 **:::**

 **Jon's POV**

I wish I didn't follow them, but I did.

After I had gone to see the Maester for medicine to treat Fat Tom's wound, I ended up going to the Glass Gardens just to see Amara and Robb. I watched from outside, how the two of them were getting on and comfortable with one another. I've seen so many new faces blooming itself on the healer's face and I found myself tranced as Robb was able to see all of this up close and personal. I was sure now that Amara may of liked him and from the way Robb smiled, all guards lowered, I think he felt the same. I expected this but it didn't make the pain any less.

Now I felt at odds about giving her these marked books Maester Luwin wanted me to give her. I know it had to be done for this was research for Arya's poison. I don't know what Amara was trying to accomplish with these stories, poems, and ballads of bells but I knew that I wasn't all too smart when it came to the arts of healing anyway. I was too busy afraid to be close to her, seeing her eye-to-eye, because I would just be staring into a person that could never be mine or was just never meant to be.

I foolishly stood by the door of her apartments, the weight of the books nothing to me. I kept rehearsing on how I was going to speak and behave, which felt stupid and girlish when I really thought about it. What was the point in being nervous anyway? She was just a woman, just a healer; a pretty one, a kind one, but a healer nonetheless.

"Jon?"

I thought I prepared myself but I felt stiff as a plank of wood when I heard her call my name. Out of fear than hesitance, I turned to look at her to see her eyes staring at me with question and I felt more hypnotized than anything. I stood there, frozen, for a few minutes before I pushed myself to act normal; unfazed. "Maester Luwin told me to give you these." I forced my arms forward, gifting her the many books. I hadn't even thought how heavy these would be for her because I wanted to leave as fast as I could.

"Oh." Amara went on to grab a few of them, stacking them until she began to feel the weight. I stopped her instinctively, and she looked at me confused as she wasn't sure why I stopped her.

"I'll take the rest inside, you just carry those." A smile came across her lips, small, but still enough to warm you at the sight of it.

I almost didn't hear her speak during my rush, "Thank you."

I only shook my head, refusing her thanks. I tried to play off that I was just being courteous. She opened the door to her room and I followed her inside, finally noticing how late it was getting. It was evening now and then sun was slowly descending down in the horizon so that the white moon could rise for its set hours. With a hard swallow, I watched her began to light candles since she knew darkness would completely take over the room had she not. I placed the books on the desk where she had placed the others.

"Are you coming down to eat dinner?" I tried to make conversation, a part of me not wanting to leave her just yet. "You missed breakfast." I noticed her not there and Austin was very upset that she didn't come. He told me that she was going to skip it to see Luwin.

"I think I'm going to skip dinner today." I instantly frowned, wondering why she wasn't paying much attention to her own health. She couldn't ruin herself in research, "I want to work."

"You could eat a little… _Something_ at least." I tried to urge her.

She turned to me, not vexed as I would've thought her to be since I was pushing her to do something she didn't want to. "Thank you for caring for my well-being, but I assure you…" I swallowed thickly then, feeling flustered then as I lowered my eyes to the floor, "that I'll be fine, Jon. Fasting for a day won't kill me."

Even though she was right, I didn't think it was wise for her to do it, especially not now with so many things to do. "At least get something to drink." I was being a nuisance, I know it. The time she was spending speaking with me could've been used to bring her closer to curing Arya. Now that I thought about it, I should've been spending time with my little sister than to keep bothering Amara.

"I'll ask a servant to bring me a goblet of water. Will that satisfy you?" I looked up at her, seeing the grin on her face as I knew she was poking fun at me. My lips curled up in a knowing smile and I gave her a nod.

"I'm satisfied with that." Drinking and eating were two different things, but she could do one if she was going to sacrifice the other for the day. "I'll be leaving now, I don't want to pester you."

"You're not." She assured me as I watched her move to the desk, pushing away a few things to make room for her to read. "We rarely spend time together."

In a way, I was expecting her to say she knew I avoided her a lot but she hadn't. Maybe she knew but she wasn't going to ask about it. I always approached her by accident or when I needed to. In a way, I could only count on one hand how many times we were together by ourselves. Now it truly sank in that I was alone with her, right in her room to be exact. If anyone would've known this, what would they have thought? I don't want to ruin her reputation.

"I wouldn't want to bother you. I'm not all that great of company to keep." I was being honest. I didn't think there was anything fun about me. Robb was at least entertaining, but I wasn't.

Amara paused from what she was doing and turned to look at me, her brows sewing together as she looked at me. "I think you're good company."

Befuddled, my eyes went wide in my shock as I tried to not let it be too clear on my face. I wasn't able to say anything, what could I say? That she was a liar? That she was just being kind to me? Even though that was what I felt, I didn't want to insult her. So I kept my mouth shut and watched her flip through pages, knowing that I should be leaving instead of bothering her with my presence.

"Jon." I was just about to turn and make my leave, but her voice made me still. "Could you help me with this?"

My legs moved on their own, making my way to stand next to her as she leaned on the desk with the palms of her hands. Her eyes were narrowing as she looked down at the pages of the books scattered over the surface of the desk. I waited for her to ask me what she needed help with but it seemed she was taking a second chance to figure out on her own before she looked up at me. "Are there any songs you remember hearing that had the lyric of bells? I'm trying to separate the songs and poems by popularity."

I didn't have the slightest clue. No memory came to mind as I kept saying the word bells over and over in my head. I couldn't think of a single song or poem with that word, but I was never one to sing or explore that romantic side of literature. I liked reading about history, but never about those things. "I think Sansa or Lady Catelyn may of be of some help when it comes to this, I'm afraid." I wanted to help her and I was disappointed that I couldn't.

She looked at me, giving me a knowing nod. "That's alright." Staring into those odd eyes of her, I noticed that she was staring at me quite tensely. I felt little under her stare and curious of what captured her attention. Was it my face? I wasn't the most handsome person, not like my brother, but I think I was quite alright. I was sure I wasn't ugly or hard to look at. "How is Fat Tom? You went to the Maester to give him something for his minor wound, didn't you?"

I hadn't expected that. I was a little disappointed that it was just that in all honesty. I wanted to sigh but I kept it in and made my frown inward. I tried to mask my death of hopefulness that lived much too long than I would've liked it to. "He's fine." I said, "The Maester gave me some ointment to give 'im, he'll be alright. It wasn't that big of a deal."

She gave me a nod, "I'm glad he's alright, arrowheads are very painful."

"Have you been hit by an arrow before?" I inquired, curious to how she must knew the pain of it. I never took her as someone that would be in the face of danger or wounded before. Why would someone wound a healer? It didn't make much sense.

Peeling back her attire at the shoulder, my eyes widened as I saw a small scar on it. Well, I wasn't that much in shock of the scar but more so of her presenting the pale and creamy flesh of her skin to me. She didn't seem at all bothered like I would think any woman would be, but maybe because she found me honorable enough to look at the scar and not be tempted to think of anything else. "I was hit by an arrow, protecting my little brother. I tried to make several creams to lighten it but this was all I was able to do."

It wasn't unsightly like the scars I've seen on most men. It was light but a bit jagged and you couldn't only see it if you looked close enough. It didn't take anything away from her but instead it made her all the more admirable that she willingly put her life before her sibling's. "Why was your brother almost killed?"

"Naran was a troublemaker." The look on her face was one of nostalgia, her eyes shimmering as she lost herself in her memory as she adjusted her dress. "In Yi Ti, we have one hundred princes, are you aware?"

I hadn't know her origin. This was the first time I was able to know where the woman came from and why she had such vastly different looks than most Westerosi. I guess I always knew she wasn't born here, I hadn't been able to even guess which part of Westeros that would've suited her. I also thought it was none of my place to ask and I was glad that she was the one to bring it up and not me. "I do not know much about Yi Ti. All I do know is that it is a rich place."

She nodded in what I deem was out of understanding, "My brother is one of many of the hundred princes of Yi Ti. I would've been the first princess since my father did not care if I was female or not, I was his first born. People assumed that my brother was going to be one anyway, not knowing the decision my father had made and wanted to take the title from him. So we were under attacked but I shielded my brother, saving his life."

"You are a brave woman, you don't seem to think of yourself ever." The words came sputtering out, but they were meant as praise. It was true, she always put others before herself, especially children. I've seen it firsthand with her defenseless against the bandit commander in attempts to keep Austin safe. She was even willing to give herself away to what could've been rape and death. "So there is no king to rule all of Yi Ti? Just princes?" Curious of her homeland, I wanted to hear as much as could tell me about it.

Her eyes kept themselves locked on the book as if she was unable to look at me. I wonder if my praise was more of an insult to her, seeing as those she let her hair shield much of her face. "There is no king. The Princes rule the realms on their own and the people that live in them." She explained to me, "We had a God-Emperor, several in fact, that were named by colors but we have none no more. Although, I believe some people have come forward to bring such ways back. You know how people would like such a title."

It made me wonder how Westeros would've been if we adopted such a system. It probably wouldn't have worked. In fact, Westeros probably would've fell apart and princes would die by the day so that another could take their place. "Why did you leave Yi Ti?" I wondered if the subject was hard for her to talk about, but I didn't think of that as I asked.

Pushing some of of her hair over her shoulder, she kept her eyes where they were before. "It was too much for me." Her admittance left me puzzled and wondering if I made a grave mistake. "I lost my father and I never really got over the death of my mother." Her eyes closed halfway, the way they hooded over her eyes was in a sad way. I found myself wishing I never asked her that question. It was not my intention to bring such memories to the forefront of her mind, "I don't think any child really gets over losing their parent, let alone both of them." Her eyes looked up at me as I absently stared into space.

"I never knew my mother, so I can't say I relate. I don't know anything about her or even her name." I was always saddened and frustrated by that, being so curious as to whom my mother was when I was young. My father never wanted to talk about her.

I was expecting to see pity in her eyes. Instead, her hand slowly reached out and grabbed my gloved one, giving it a firm and comforting squeeze. I felt chills and my heart stilled as I had never been given such an act of kindness like this before. "I am sorry to hear." She said to me in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "I could never imagine or begin to know how it is to be without a mother."

Lady Catelyn was an example of a mother that I've been able to witness firsthand, but she wasn't that way towards me. I never received an ounce of her affection, and that was because of how I was brought about here. She loved her children and since I was not one of them, I was cast aside and treated like an outsider. I envied them; Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon from the warm affections and maternal scoldings she would give them. I longed to have that but it was too late for me; seventeen years of age? I was an adult in my own right. I had to take care of myself.

"Austin never had his mother either." I thought of the little boy, bright and full of youth, that loved her dearly. He had gotten on so well with Bran and Rickon, I think they haven't at all separated since he came here. "I am unsure of how to raise him, having never been a mother myself." For a person so full of motherly affection for children, I wasn't sure how it could be hard for her. She treated him like I saw Lady Catelyn treat my siblings. I thought she was doing a wonderful job, but even she had her doubts.

"You're doing a great job if you ask me." I wondered if my words would help, "I've seen you treat him like I've seen mothers treat their own. I wish I had someone like you when I was young, I think I would've been much happier back then." I said too much, a slip of the tongue was that last bit. I saw her look up at him in sympathy and shock. The expression soon left and she smiled at me and I guess my words did do something, maybe made her much less harsh on herself.

"I don't know if you're saying that to be nice or if you sincerely feel that way." Taken aback was probably the best way to describe my reaction. I looked at her as if wondering why she would have to question me but then I saw the leer and I knew she was messing with me. What an odd sense of humor she had, and her voice didn't give much away of it either, which made me take her seriously.

Her attention left me and went back into the books as she went on to push one books away and go the next one. I wished I was some use to of her but she didn't seem to want me to leave her just yet. Out of curiosity, I leaned in to read what she was reading next as her finger traced over the words as she read them. One ballad in particular seemed to capture her attention:

 _"For eight days, bells of golden rung n' rung,_

 _birds of blue sung n' sung._

 _Cometh the air of a cold, Wwinter's night_

 _that killed flowers, except the roses that remained alive despite._

 _Midst of it all, children dread the coming of scorn and might_

 _of the evil inside darkness that cometh to steal n' fright._

 _As darkness grew, the bells had stopped their ringing_

 _and harmony was no longer a tune worth singing."_

"What darkness? Evil inside darkness that came to steal and fright." She repeated, her face etched in confusion. "What could that mean?"

I've never heard the song before and it seemed quite dark for children to sing. In fact, I felt afraid of the lyrics alone than I had been of some of Old Nan's scary stories that she used to tell us when were young. We've grown used to them now, but it was Rickon and Bran's turn to hear them. I then had an idea just from thinking of that old, crazy woman. "Darkness could mean the days during Winter." Speaking up, I cleared my throat to elaborate my theory. "In the harsher Winters, there would be many days of night. One time, there were a straight eight days of total darkness."

"Eight days? This can't be a mere coincidence." Her eyes widened upon the fact, and I found myself now understanding. Had someone used this as a means to name the poison that was given to Arya? I watched her step away from the desk, folding her arms across her chest as she move her head in a thoughtful tilt. Her eyes squinted as she remained in thought, her pace slow as she remained as calculating. "It says flowers died in the winter except the roses…" As the words left her lips, I watched her eyes immediately look down at the vase of the Blue Winter Flowers. "That's it! These flowers, these flowers hold the cure!"

"What?" Confused, I wondered how she drew herself to that conclusion. "How so?"

"I was so sure that the cure could be within any piece of literature that had ringing bells, for some poisons are named based on very specific things. The poison must be based on this song since too many things are aligning with it. The roses are the cure because with everything dying from the harshness of Winter, the Blue Winter Roses remained alive because they bloom in such a time of adversity. That means they cannot be harmed; they could resist the darkness and harshness of winter. It can cure the poison!"

Grabbing the flower head of one of the roses, she moved towards the desk and move many of the books that covered the wooden surface of it. I watched her forcefully tear the petals from the stems in a hurried frenzy. The door to her room quickly open, revealing Robb, who was out of breath from his obvious running.

He looked at us, eyes hardened. "We found who poisoned Arya."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note** :

* * *

It was becoming a long evening and they weren't getting much of anything at this rate. Eddard paced with his arms behind him, head low, as he contemplated on what he wanted to do going ahead. This man, probably in his mid to late thirties, admitted to being the one planting the poison in his daughter's food and nearly killing her. It relieved Ned to have him caught but also made him skeptical, for why would such a person outright admit it when they were trying to run? Of course, he might've accepted the fact that his actions turned against him and so it would do him justice to just say the truth ( or what little of it ), but why won't he spill more? Why won't he say who hired him? The man had no reason to want to kill Arya, for what purpose would it serve? It would only make sense if he was hired. And there was not a minute that went by where Ned was going to let that question be thrown.

Catelyn was holding herself strong, but she was always that way. Her family made her strong but she found herself weakened by the plague that her youngest daughter might die by the eighth day since she been poisoned. Many of nights, she spent it without sleep and letting tears rain with her husband rubbing her back, providing all the comfort that he could. Even though tears were shed, she did not shake away her resolve. The woman remained bent on finding a way to save her daughter and end the man that attempted to kill her. While she stood there now, upright and regal in every sense of the word, her eyes were still swirling with flames of fury that could not be doused as she awaited for what her husband would do next. Due to his honor, he did not want to resort to the brutal and savagery of torture, but he also could not let the man keep his lips sealed of the information they needed. There were so many pros and cons weighing against him, but Catelyn was sure that her beloved husband would make the right decision in the end. Until then, she would wait until he decided on what he wanted to do as she killed the man a thousand times over in her mind alone.

In this room, Ser Rodrik, master-at-arms and a man of great thought, had stood with his eyes following his lord. His nephew, Jory, was also there with his eyes downcast as they were all hardened with a look of thought. Ned wanted them all together for better judgement of how he should move in regards of the prisoner. They also willingly wanted to take up the act of bearing torture if Ned found himself unable to want to go through with it due to his codes of honor. There was only one blemish to the Stark's honorable streak, but Ned would never regret bringing home that Lone Wolf, that boy, named Jon Snow. For Jon was his son and he'd never let anyone tell him otherwise.

"What will you do, Ned?" Ser Rodrik questioned, knowing that they could not wait idly forever. Honor or not on the line, they could not keep this man prisoner without knowing who the real threat was. "Do we kill him or give him pain so that he may speak? Him being here is a danger in itself and we cannot be slow with our actions."

The Warden of the North let his grey eyes sweep up to Rodrik, who was beginning to grow impatient in such an obvious way. It didn't anger him, no, because he knew Rodrik wanted to hurt the man himself. The hurt he felt was as if the prisoner touched his family himself. Ned also knew he had a point, but he wanted to make his decision carefully and not come to regret it later on. "My husband will make the right choice, Ser Rodrik." Catelyn came to his defense, "There are still many things to do and if we are not careful, we also could be losing the cure if the man knows it. The healer works hard but if she is unable, we need this man alive."

That was one of the many thoughts that came across Ned's mind too. If they weren't careful, they could lose that and if the healer wasn't able to figure it out soon then their daughter was bound to death. "Rodrik," The man's eyes snapped up to to look at his lord, "what form of torture do you think is the most efficient way? I don't want the man to bleed himself dry, but I want him to bleed so he knows he must talk."

Before he could be given an answer, Robb rushed back into the room. "Father, Mother." The smile on his face was present, he tried to labor his breaths from the hard run but he made sure that his voice was loud and ever so clear. "The healer has discovered the cure, she is with Arya now."

Catelyn gasped, her eyes closing as as her hand rested against her chest in ease. Eddard's shoulders relaxed, the heaviness in his chest lifting by the majority upon the good news. In fact, it had been the greatest news they heard all week. His steps, heavy but rushed, were made towards his wife, who crashed herself into him and clung onto him with grips of happiness. At least that was the last of their worries. "You should go see her." He didn't want Catelyn here when Arya needed her more.

"No," She shook her head, "I will stay here with you until I find why that _man_ poisoned my daughter." Her voice enunciated all the clear feelings of disgust and contempt she had, but it then eased into a tone of softness at the thought of her daughter free from death. "Arya is safe now, but I need to make sure she stays that way."

Seeing as there was no point in arguing after she said that, Ned gave his wife a knowing smile and a nod. "Rodrik, let's get on with it."

 **:::**

Hearing Arya's complaints had been well worth it. She had to be stirred out of sleep, a half of goblet of antidote for her to swallow down that Amara made as soon as she was able. Jon escorted her to Arya's room and said he would follow Robb, possibly to help question the person who had poisoned Arya. She wanted to see him, to question the person for herself, but she knew that the family needed to deal with him. It really wasn't her place to find out why they did what they did, but because this had hurt Arya, she noticed that she was acting out of her own personal feelings and that wasn't right. It was unprofessional and making her grow attached. Amara knew that she had known better than to do that.

With her fingers interlocked, her eyes focused on watching Arya down the medicine with a unsurprising frown on her face. Even though it wasn't the happiest of expressions, it was more than enough to make all the stress Amara endured leave her in one fell swoop. Once the last drop of it all was taken, the girl stuck out her tongue as if to let air rid the taste of it on her pink muscle. "I know it doesn't taste very good," Amara explained as she took the empty goblet from the girl's hand, "I had other things added to it so that it didn't taste too much like perfume." Her words wouldn't rid the taste just like the air didn't, but she simply warned that it could've been worst. Much worse.

"I never want to taste it again." Chuckling, the healer was more certainly glad that the girl was now free from poison or left with thoughts of whether or not she would die. It made her surge with happiness that this small girl could live as long as she was meant to and poison wouldn't deter her from the path she was meant to walk in life.

In the sadness of it all, this also meant that Amara had no reason to stay in Winterfell. Herself and Austin would have to leave since her job was complete. Even though she enjoyed the few days she spent here, she knew that she would have to give Austin a home. The boy needed stability and not to be constantly on the road. It was just a sad thing he would have to part with Bran and Rickon in order to have the life she knew she had to give him.

"Hopefully, my lady, you won't ever have to." Amara's eyes lazily look down at the empty goblet since the smell of the medicine still lingered. It was ever so strong but it smelled nice despite how the taste wasn't at all pleasing. She then placed it on the surface of the end table since it was closest to her. "Since you are now cured, my work here is finished."

"What?" Alert and confused, the young girl's eyes snapped to look up at her. "You're leaving?" Arya grabbed the woman's sleeve, brows straightening down the bridge of her nose as her eyes held questions.

With a nod, she looked at Arya with confusion. "Of course, why else would I stay? My whole mission here was to cure you and I did just that, have I not?" It was hard to, but she tried to smile and keep the tone about her voice light. Amara would miss Arya but she knew if she said that then it would only make matters much worse. "Don't tell me, have you grown to like me, my lady?" Her eyes twinkled teasingly as she crinkled them, a titter left her after seeing the girl snatch her hands back like the healer's sleeve was made of fire itself. The girl's frown was ever present and deep, knowing she did not enjoy her teasing.

"No!" She immediately said, covering up any sort of claim that she actually cared for the healer. "It's just—It's late, that's all." In all efforts, Arya did her best to try to convince the young woman that she did not care whether she was going to leave or not. There was no way she was going to say any words relating to _miss_ or that she _enjoyed_ her, "Why would you go out in the night?"

"I'll be leaving in the morn." Her answer came swift, "If I didn't have Austin, I would have left in the night but I know I cannot face nightly dangers with him." It surprised her that these words left her. Fears never came to mind when she moved on her own, but now that she had this boy with her, she realized all the things she had done that could've been dangerous. Her shock didn't come across her face even though she was reeling from it, she continued on with what she was doing as she thought about this sudden change in her.

Arya's eyes lowered, fully understanding that there was no other reason for the woman to stay. Despite her efforts to maintain this façade that she did not care, she truly enjoyed Amara's company and wished she could stay just for a few days more. Although it wouldn't make sense for the woman to stay and she was not going to admit anything either. And so, with her shoulders slumped, she decided to to accept that this was the way things had to be. How things were supposed to end now. Unbeknownst to them, the door had opened, slowly and not loud enough to capture their attention, but it stopped halfway. Amara was too busy tidying up the desk she used to notice and Arya's eyes were glued to her blanket. "Thank you," Her voice sounded low, so quiet as if she didn't want the woman to hear them, "for saving me that is."

The words warmed her; by the end of the sentence, her chest flooded with rapid waves happiness. Amara slowly turned to face Arya and walked back to her bedside. "I only did my job, my lady." Although it pained her to see that the girl not look at her, she knew not to take it to heart. This was the young wolf girl's personality; she had a hard time letting one in and was much too proud to show her vulnerability. "But hearing that makes me so very happy."

For a split second, she caught a small smile and accepted that was all the young Stark girl was willing to give her. Not wanting to linger on any longer, she walked towards the door to find it oddly opened. Pulling the door back, she watched Jon practically stumble forward in a clumsy dance but quickly manage to catch himself with a few tricks of his feet. As he gathered himself, he stood up straight with eyes wide in horror from being caught by both Amara and Arya, who looked at him baffled about his strange entrance.

The silence that soon fell was awkward and made Jon want to immediately cringe. It wasn't until the healer belted out a laugh with her arms crossing over her stomach in efforts to try to contain herself. Arya soon fell in a fit of laughter, her hand over her mouth, as Jon stood there, turning a few hues of red now that the embarrassment of it all could seep in. Why wouldn't he be? The young man almost wished he wasn't listening at the door and came back later.

"You could've just come in." His little sister said, her brows lifted as her smirk remained. "Idiot."

"I didn't want to just barge in!" He defended himself, unable to stop the blood from rushing to his face as he began emanate waves of heat.

Amara wiped a tear that pooled at the corner of her eyes, her eyes smiling like her lips. "I'll leave you two be. I was on my way."

"You don't have to!" His hands rushed forward, attempting to stop her. Jon swallowed down the lump in his throat as he tried to correct what he believed was a mistake. "I can leave."

"No," She shook her head, "my work is done here and I'm going to retire to my room."

"Oh." Unable to find himself able to challenge that, he slightly moved aside to give her the space to exit the room. "Good night then."

"Good night." With a slight bow, she then looked over to Arya. "To you as well." And like that, she left the room, leaving Jon and Arya by themselves.

"Why are you acting like a bumbling fool?" She asked this once Amara was gone and the door was closed. Arya was a little unsure, but she was sure the woman had something to do with her brother's odd behavior. She had never seen Jon interacting much with women and he was not as smooth as Theon or as magnetic as her brother had been. Jon looked like a bashful, little boy right then and it was certainly odd ( as well as entertaining ) to see.

His eyes quickly looked to her, frown on his face. "I am not." He argued, "It wasn't intentional, thanks."

"Then what's wrong with you then?" Her brow remained in its arch, her question demanding to be answered. Jon knew very well Arya would not let this go until she was satisfied with the answer he gave her and he couldn't even begin to think of one. His mind just replaying the scene and the image of the woman laughing repetitively. Right now, he just wanted to hide himself and pretend nothing ever happened.

"Nothing is wrong with me." Jon took a seat, bringing up to her bed. "I could've fell, little sister, and you're worried about something that doesn't even matter."

Her eyes rolled at this, "You would've been fine had you fell. You aren't _that_ weak, Jon."

With a snort, he smirked at her before getting to the reason why he showed up here in the first place. "How do you feel? Does the medicine make you feel better?"

"I was already feeling better." Her hands comb through her fur blanket, her eyes glazed with thought. "The other medicine did alright." There was a mischevious glint in her eyes as she looked up at him, giving him her signature leer. "But my guess is, you really came to see _her_ too."

Tongue-tied, his eyes shot open nearly all the way as Arya's leer never faltered but just grew in size. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm saying." She wasn't going to do this dance with him. The young girl wasn't going to pretend that she wasn't noticing the way he was acting. "You like the healer, don't you?"

The way she could be so blunt would stun him sometimes. Even though he enjoyed it, knowing their relationship was built on such sharp honesty, he wished his sister acted like a naïve little girl sometimes. Well, only mainly in cases like these so he didn't have to explain himself. "That's not true."

"It is so." Holding her claim, her head tilted back to raise her chin in defiance. In a way, she was daring him to lie to her. "Don't be a liar."

The only way he could win this war with her was to either stay quiet, change the topic or just give in. Weighing the options, he had no intentions of doing the latter at all. "I'm just glad to know you're cured." He went on to say instead, ruffling her bed hair. This was an act she had grown to find annoying, endearing, and familiar.

Knowing that she was well and there was nothing to worry about eased him. The thought of never seeing her running down the halls, torturing Septa Mordane by skipping lessons, and flicking her food at Sansa was a scary one. It reminded him how short life could be and now that he was practically a man, there were a great many things he should do before his life was exhausted.

"What about the person who poisoned me?" It shouldn't have surprised him; this was Arya after all. Every time something was weighing on that mind of hers, she shot straight to it. Never keen on mind games, she demanded the truth since she heavily believed that facts weighed more to her than anything else.

However, he couldn't help but let out a long, tired sigh. He kept thinking on whether or not it would be good or if this was his place to be telling her. Arya should be asleep, letting the antidote run its course through her body; getting the long rest that she deserved. And yet, this was his sister; relentless and now restless once she heard the news. "The man won't talk." He answered, giving her something at the least. "But he admitted to being hired."

"How was he found in the first place?" She was being unusually calm about this, but Jon could see the anger all in her eyes. She was beyond infuriated but she knew that lashing out wouldn't change a thing or shouldn't be directed at him most of all. Arya also knew that her parents would make sure she never saw the man, which only added onto her rage.

There were few details spared from him since Robb didn't know exactly everything either. He only explained a small portion to Amara and himself. "There was a man trying to flee Wintertown with a large sum of gold dragons. Apparently, he was supposed to stay until news of your…" Her brother paused, not wanting to say the word but Arya understood and he skipped over it, "but he said that the person who hired him wanted him to leave immediately since news of a healer and of your good health of late began to spread."

"I want to see him." It didn't surprise him, this was Arya after all.

"You will not." Her brother said, voice filled with authority, which was so very unlike him. Jon usually was the one that let her have her way and encourage her to be the fighter she always wanted to be. This time, there was no arguing with him. It hurt her even though she knew his intention of doing so.

"It's not fair!" The girl seethed, teeth bared in a ways of an angry hound. "He nearly kills me and I can't get my own justice?! It's not fair!" Her brother nearly winced at the sharpness of her tone, but most of all the volume of it.

"I know its not, but the man is dangerous. He nearly got away with killing you." Even though what he said made sense, it still didn't make it any less unfair. Arya was just a "child" and "too young" as well as a "lady" to do anything about things like these. Everyone had to decide for her and she couldn't stand it. She was so angry that her knuckles were turning white from how hard she was clutching the fur blanket.

Amara did say the medicine would make her feel drowsy, and maybe her anger was inducing her to sleep. With a sigh, she flopped down onto the pillow and turned her back to her brother. "Leave me. I'm going to sleep." Since Jon wouldn't tell her anything, she would just sleep it off and try again tomorrow. There was no reason to keep arguing with him when he seemed so adamant about his decision.

It had hurt, wounded him even, that she was angry with him. Jon was usually the one by her side, behind her every step of that way, but this one time left her irritated with him. This one time when he did as he should, he had to bare her anger and possibly be ignored for a few days. It had to be done, he knew that, but he loved her too much to want to deal with her cold shoulder. With a heavy sigh, he stood and lifted the chair from off the floor to place it back at its rightful place behind the desk. Giving his sister one last glance, he walked out of the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

There were only a few things he could do: he could go to his own room and sleep or he could go see Amara. From what he heard, the woman was already planning on leaving. She had done what Robb and Jon requested of her and so there was no real reason for her to stay here in Winterfell. The thought made him more or less sad because that would mean he would never see her again. Where she would go next? He had no idea, but she was a traveling healer, wasn't she? Austin would be with her, which made him think that she would be more cautious and not get herself caught up in an incident again like she had with the bandits. It was only a stroke of good luck that Robb and Jon came with her.

Now that he thought about it, Jon couldn't help but wonder how Robb was going to feel about the healer's departure. Wouldn't he feel sad about her leaving? Maybe he would convince her not to. Lady Catelyn wouldn't like for that to happen. A healer with her son? Even though the facts were that woman was just like him; she was highborn, born into royalty, but she gave away her crown to her brother and so that made her a part of the smallfolk. If Robb, as he thought, did have feelings for her then it wouldn't be all that he dreamed. It hurt Jon to know he was glad about that, in a way, because that meant he wouldn't have to see the two of them together. It never made Jon feel good to be envious of Robb for he was such a good brother. It made him ill to know he wished to take something from him or be glad that he was unable to have something. It made him despise himself.

Staring down the hallway in thought, he turned down the hall to make his way to Amara's apartment in the guest hall. He had to say his goodbyes, he didn't want to say it in front of everyone since there would be nothing private about it. He may have not been able to tell the woman that he liked her, but he could at get more time to spend with her. For once, Jon decided to be selfish and he hoped be glad that he wouldn't regret it.

 **:::**

It wasn't easy but she had told Austin they would be leaving tomorrow. The look on his face made her heart twist since she knew the boy had grown to like so many of the people here. It would be a lie to say she wouldn't miss the Starks either despite how little of time she spent with them. They were all kind and showed her great hospitality, but she couldn't stay. She done what she needed to do and now it was time for her to leave with Austin beside her. The boy decided to sleep in her room again and she didn't deny him for a second time. Instead, she combed her fingers through his hair until he fell asleep after talking to her for almost an hour about all the adventures he had with Bran. It was sweet to hear how close they had become and she hoped the two could still be friends despite the distance. Friendships could last through distance; they could send ravens to each other and visit whenever they were able. There was no need for them to end their friendship because they wouldn't see each other as often.

A knock came to her door and she raised her brows, wondering just who it was due to the time. It wasn't Lady Catelyn for the woman would've barged in like she did before. Her hand eased themselves out of the boy's soft hair as she rose to her feet to make her way towards the door. Opening it, she was surprised to see Jon but gave him a smile nonetheless. Amara waited for him to explain why had came but his lips parted but then closed, showing that he was still mulling over his reason. She wanted to laugh at how nervous he seemed—as he always was since known him—but she kept it in and waited patiently.

"Arya says you'll be leaving in the morn." He finally spoke as she gave a nod, "So soon?"

"The sooner the better." She said, looking over her shoulder at the sleeping boy. Jon followed her gaze, surprised to see that Austin wasn't in his own bed. "There's no reason for me to stay and it would just make saying goodbye even harder…" His eyes fixated on her when she said so, but she quickly covered it up. "For Austin, that is."

Keeping himself from frowning, he watched as she stepped aside to allow him to walk in. His feet shifted uncomfortably at the door, feeling hesitant. "I shouldn't stay long, I don't want to wake him."

"Nothing can wake him when he's in a deep sleep." Amara sighed with her eyes briefly closing, "Believe me, he sleeps like a rock."

Not bothering to argue, he stepped inside and watched her close the door shut. His feet carried him to the fireplace since that was where the chairs were, he had took one and she did as well; opposite of him. "Do you know where you'll be heading to next?" Breaking the silence, which only left him reeling on how uncomfortable he was, he gazed at the fire since he knew that staring at her would only make turn into what Arya called: "a bumbling fool."

"The only way to go is south." She reasoned since venturing northward wasn't ideal since where would she eventually go? The wall was there and she had no intention of going there. "There are a great many small villages to be comfortable in. So the next village I'll find is where I'll go." Amara's answer seemed easy enough, meaning she had thought about it. He figured she must've thought about this while she lived in the other village since she hadn't intended to stay there much longer either. "I want stability for Austin, so I'll eventually settle permanently at one place. I want it to be a good one, so I don't have much to worry about."

Then an idea came to him. "Why not Wintertown?" The words left him without hesitance, just spilling without control. "Austin can see Bran and Rickon whenever."

A look of thought coated her features, her eyes widening a fraction as she thought about it. "You have a point." Her lips then upturned in a smile, "And you too will be able to visit me."

"Yes, I mean no! Yes, I would—What?" Her shoulders shook as she chuckled, unable to keep a straight face from that look that suddenly appeared on his face. Jon had been so calm and when she mentioned him visiting her, he looked like a frightened rabbit during a hunt. It was easy to mess with him and she wouldn't relent either.

"You wouldn't visit me?" There was a hint of playfulness to her voice as she found herself delving into her fun, "I am hurt, Jon Snow."

Mouth agape, he curled and uncurled his fists to show that he was lost for words. He wasn't angry, not at all, but more so nerve-wrecked more than anything. "I would come visit you. It's just, you say it so boldly…"

"Should I say it shyly then?" Amara rose a brow, "Was I not _charming_ enough for you?" This woman. He squeezed his eyes shut as his ears were filled with her laughter, knowing that she was able to make him like a little boy again with just the slightest bit of actions. It wasn't her fault, he wasn't sure she knew the thoughts and feelings he had developed since they met. "You are my friend, are you not? If you are not then I would like you to be. Lord Robb is my friend too, at least I believe he is."

That word stung, but it also eased him. She thought of Robb as a friend too, so that meant his fears weren't exactly coming to fruition. She did not harbor romantic feelings for Robb or else she would never held the title and called him a friend. So there was still a chance, but Jon wasn't sure if it would the right thing to take it. Instead, he gave her a half smile. "Even if you decide not to stay in Wintertown, I would still like to visit you."

There was something prepossessing about the way she smiled at that moment, but he found that in about everything she done. Her eyes were entertained by the sight of the flames in the fireplace, trying to find patterns and spots within the flame as a peaceful silence edged its way back. Amara, herself, was unable to look at him now due the surprise she felt from his words. Jon always thought she was reticent but he learned that there was much more of her that she was willing to reveal. Hopefully, he'd see more of it if she decided to stay in the outlying town.

Her eyes then swept in his direction—

A pair of eyes, a moonless grey that gleamed by the dancing fire were fixated on her. Her heart grew tight then, wondering what he was thinking as he kept his eyes on her. It almost startled her to be under his hard gaze but she couldn't find herself willingly able to look away. Instead, she didn't break the stare until a few knocks came about her door.

Both of them blinked and turned since the door was already being opened. It was Lady Catelyn, Amara knew it would be her before the door opened all the way. She smiled knowingly as the woman walked in but looked surprised as well as miffed by the sight of her husband's bastard. Both of them raised themselves to their feet, bowing to her respectfully for a greeting and a goodbye. Jon slowly turned himself to face Amara with the intentions of leaving, "I'll see you in the morning."

Her head lowered, knowing that this was going to be the last time they would talk. It annoyed her that she felt sad about it, but she was also happy that he came to see her even though they had spent only a little time together. With a wry smile, she kept her voice free of her feelings. "Good night."

His smile was enough for her to accept the silent goodbye as he left out of her room rather swiftly. Catelyn watched with squinted, suspicious eyes and kept her eyes peering over her shoulder until the door was shut. The look on her face was hard to read and Amara wondered if she heard the news of Arya being given the antidote. She had to told Robb when he came earlier to let his mother hear the news but with everything going on, she could guess that Robb had been unable.

The woman's steps were slow as she walked towards her. The woman was taller than her, by a good six inches and so Amara had no other choice than to look up at her due to the difference in height. When Catelyn finally ceased her walking, she grabbed Amara's wrists and gave them a tight squeeze; not in a means to harm, but to show her gratitude. "Thank you." Her voice sounded taut, but it wasn't out of anger but because the woman was trying to will herself to not shed tears. The healer slowly smile and gave a nod, understanding. "You saved her… you saved my precious girl."

There was always something so incredibly painful seeing a mother cry, even if it wasn't your own. Amara had never seen her own mother shed tears and she had been grateful since it would've hurt her to the core to see her mother in such a state. The only good thing about the way the woman's eyes glossed with tears was because these were happy ones and not grieving ones. Amara was glad she was able to save Arya and wouldn't have to see her parents grieve for her, not ever. "You must let me repay you."

"No, Lady Stark." She immediately declined, "I do not seek payment. I am just glad that the girl lives, that is all the compensation that I need."

Sniffling, the woman shook her head in refusal as she tried to blink away any more tears that threatened to fall. Her hands swiped away the salty droplets stains on her fac, "You have a son now." The healer became rigid, her eyes following Catelyn's eyes that were resting on her son. "You _must_ think of him and you must be able to accept pay. I know children are a soft spot for you, but you must consider the fact that you'll need coins for you both to survive on."

It was true. Amara couldn't live frugally as she always had. There was just no humble way of living anymore now that she had a child with her. Austin needed clothes and food and that required more coins. Out of shame, her eyes looked away from the woman and to the floor because she hadn't thought of that sooner. "My husband wishes for you to stay in Wintertown as a physician." Amara's eyes flickered up in shock, "He would've made you an understudy of Maester Luwin, but you never trained at the Citadel. This is an award for your saving our daughter and since you like to travel, it would be easier for you to do so if you lived in Wintertown. You need a home, a permanent place."

It almost made her want to outright deny it because it felt entirely too much. Amara had once thought of studying at the Citadel, but being a Maester for just one place didn't sit well with her. She wanted to help people, no matter their wealth. Truth of it all, she honestly didn't feel like she had done so much to earn either option. Of course, she healed Arya and Arya was a lady of Winterfell, but it felt like it would've been just handed her to her because of that. As Catelyn said, she had to think of Austin. What was good for him? Like Jon suggested, Wintertown could be it. Right then, the healer gave a fervent nod, a smile gracing her features. "I accept being a physician of Wintertown."

Catelyn's eyes widened at her answer but then soon swelled with a sense of pride. There were times where she thought she had begun to figure the healer out, but then be caught up in a web of surprises. In some ways, the Tully-born had suspected Amara would turn down this deal since she was a constant traveler. Wouldn't the woman feel restless staying in one place? Catelyn thought so. It must've been the boy to have changed the healer's mind, she surmised. "I'll tell my husband of your decision, and there will be a good home given to you for you and Austin to live in. You may visit us whenever you are able, I know myself and Arya will be very pleased to see you. And my sons will be more than happy to see Austin since they made a friend in him."

Her eyes shyly looked down to the floor, feeling small and girlish after knowing that Lady Catelyn wanted to see her again. She surely thought the woman wouldn't be that much fond of her and maybe she did owe Robb an apology. Perhaps he was right, that Catelyn did like her after all, but why? It could be because she saved Arya, why else? They never spoken much to each other except the time she was scolded and the other when they searched the back kitchens. Either way, Amara wanted to get to know the woman more for she felt that there could be a bond that she had missed for many years being forged again. "I hope we can become better friends, Lady Stark."

"I think we just might be on our way." The smiling face of Catelyn Stark left the healer in awe.

The air around them felt warm and tranquil but she knew it would be ruined by the question that was prodding the back of her lips. For once this week, Catelyn was happy and Amara did not want to ruin it, but she had to know. Her mind was eating away at her, wanting to know who had done this to Arya. Who would bring a small girl such harm? Amara contemplated for a few minutes, standing in silence while wondering if this was the right decision before she met the beautiful Tully eyes of the older woman. "Lady Stark," Amara began to say, "may I ask?"

"Ask what?" Curious, the woman rose an elegant brow as she inclined her head in efforts to urge the healer to speak. Not once had she seen such difficulty in her face, which seemed unlike her since she seemed bold in every decision she made. It then dawned on Catelyn what might have Amara holding back. She briefly closed her eyes and let out a sigh, "You want to know who tried to kill Arya."

"Only if you wish to tell me." It wasn't something Amara was going to force the woman to speak about and she was trying to be sensitive about the time since Catelyn just received good news. If the lady didn't want to speak of it now she could wait, it wasn't something she had to know right away. "It can wait another day, really."

"No, no." She patted the girl's hand, simmering the thought that she was wrong to ask. "It is best you know." With a sweep motion, she gestured for them to sit down. Amara nodded slowly before making her way, but her steps seemed slow. Her eyes soon ventured to set their sights on Austin, who hadn't moved an inch in his sleep. The boy slept like the dead; staying in one place and not a sound of a snore leaving him. The only sign of life was the rise and fall of his chest that Amara always looked out for. Finally setting herself down, she set her jaw as Catelyn sat down seconds after.

The sound of the crackles of fire soon filled the silent room as Amara looked unnerved to finally learn the truth. The woman before her was calm, but her eyes seemed to took on the passion of anger now that she had to recall the events. "Lady Esme hired him. The man who poisoned my Arya was hired by none other than Lady Esme Caldwin."

Blank. Void. Amara immediately masked her shock, for what purpose? Instincts, possibly. Since she was so used to keeping herself guarded, she couldn't even let the weight of the information had on her be shown to Lady Catelyn. Instead, she swallowed all the waves of astonishment that keep flooding through, slipping through the tiny holes of the hard shell she tried to portray. The girl loved Robb, didn't she? Amara knew that something like that would make him hate her. Why should Arya's life be used in this way? The girl was but a child and had no reason to be involved in the woman's web of desire.

"But…" Amara shook her head, not able to connect the pieces. "Why? Why would she do that?"

Catelyn shook her head, still unbelieving of it all herself. "She claims that a man threatened her to do it." From the way it was said, the healer had a feeling that the woman didn't buy Esme's claim. "She said some strange boy by the name of Snow told her to do it or else he'd kill her." Snow, from what Amara learned, was given to bastard children in the North. Amara knew better that it couldn't be Jon and since Esme didn't know the first name, he was in no shape or form a suspect. "That could be anybody, but when I asked her to describe him she said she couldn't."

"You can't question every bastard in the north." Understanding the dilemma in believing Esme's words, Amara fiddled with her fingers unsure if she could believe Esme either. It sounded like a good plan, but she wasn't there to decipher if it was a lie or not since she hadn't seen Esme herself. "What are you planning to do? Are you going to investigate?" Amara didn't want to ask if they would kill Esme. The woman was young, most likely the same age as Amara herself. Amara was against death unless it was truly necessary and this was case where she wasn't sure if it truly was. If what Esme claimed to be true then the girl didn't deserve death. Yes, she nearly killed Arya but that was to save her own life. Anyone would've done that, even though Amara hated that Arya was used.

It appeared that Catelyn wasn't even sure what to do either, "I've decided to banish her and her family from the North and let them live their lives in the South. Ned has agreed with such decision, but the assassin she sent killed himself. He took some sort of substance in the middle of interrogation and died right afterwards. If you are able, you must look into it."

"That's quite suspicious. Do you think he knew more than what he was letting on? Maybe he could've proved Lady Esme's words but was hired to kill himself." Her mind couldn't wrap around that, and she found herself feeling unsettled. "I don't mind doing that for you, I'm curious of it myself."

"Of course, but all our leads run dry." Nodding understandingly, the healer sighed. "All I want to do is hold my precious girl. I'm tired of fighting and the threat is handled. There's nothing more I can do than to ensure her safety as well as make sure that nobody is able to get that close to her again."

"You've done all you could, Lady Stark." Wanting the woman to not be angry with herself, Amara tried to cheer the woman up or at least she attempted to. "If I were you, I'd feel the same. I know you wanted to kill the man for hurting Arya, but you chose to do the right thing. Arya is safe and healthy, there is no reason for you to worry again."

"I hope that's true, Amara. I hope that is true for all my children for no parent should ever put their child in the ground."

 **:::**

"What were you thinking?!" It was hard, but he was trying. For the love of the Seven, was he trying to understand what his son had planned to do. His hands rubbed his temples, quickening the pace as soon as his ire grew tall in flames. He couldn't understand the boy, but who could? Roose knew well enough that his son, his bastard, was on the path of the demented. He heard the rumors of the boy's actions, but what could be done? He was still his son. He still had some use despite him being a Snow. "What would you gain killing a little girl?"

Unaffected by his father's anger for what he felt he did was just, Ramsay stood up straight with his arms behind him to show a strong front. His mind was swimming with how many ways this could possibly go wrong and if he could've done something that ruined his plans in the future forever. This was all an effort to be legitimized, something he had always wanted. "Listen, Father." Keeping his cool, he fought not to smirk as he recalled the step by step actions of the plan he conjured up. "They'll know she's not safe in Winterfell, and that _someone_ wants to kill her." His eyes watched his father as he explained, "Then they'll have to marry her off to ensure her safety."

"And who will she marry?" Roose asked, tilting his head back as he looked up at his son. He leaned back in the chair, trying to understand how this plan was "supposed" to go. "You?" He inclined his head towards his son, "You think they would marry Lady Arya to you?"

"If I was your heir." Ramsay's eyes slowly looked away, eluding the fact that everything would've been right if his father had done his part. He kept his lips thinned, making sure he wasn't grinning as he saw a look of thought dance across his father's face. At least the man wasn't being so stubborn like he usually was, at least he was actually considering it. "That's _all_ you have to do."

His hands left his temple, his right rubbing his chin as he eyes stared down at the surface of his desk. Although Ramsay was off the handle with a lot of his schemes, this one had made somewhat sense. It was also strange that Ramsay did not intentionally try to kill the girl with a much worse poison, which made it believable that he wanted the girl cured in his favor. "Why not Sansa? She's more of your age."

"Because then we'd have to wed right away, and I'm quite sure the Starks don't want to give her up to us. I have a feeling the King's visit might seal the deal." Roose might've thought the boy deranged, but he was perceptive. He also figured that due to how great friends both King Robert and Ned were, it was obvious they would want to be aligned by marriage, and to have their daughter a future queen? It had no choice but to make sense. "Also, if I married Lady Arya, that'll give us time since she isn't of marrying age. You wouldn't be sealed by marriage when we strike and then afterwards? Well, I'd have a Stark anyways."

Nodding, Roose briefly closed his eyes and interlocked his fingers to make a bridge under his chin. "For once, you do me proud."

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Didn't see that coming, did ya? This kind of closes the chapter on this arc and then the next one will be starting the first season of GoT. I like to think Roose was always traitorous. I'm also scared on ever having to really portray Ramsay for a long period of time, he's a hard character to portray canonically in my opinion. Some people can do it, but I think I really need to sit down and try to figure him out before I ever fully explore that.

If anyone was curious ( doesn't matter if you didn't care because I'm gonna share it with you all anyway ), I found many meanings to Amara's name. I always thought it was pretty, I saw it once and it always stuck with me. It has different meanings across the globe in Greek it means "Eternal; Immortal; Beloved", in many African countries it means "Grace; Mercy, Kindness", but in Latin it can either come from "Amare", which means "to love" or the other form of Latin/Italian that means "Bitter; Sad." Lastly, in Mongolian it means "Peaceful." I think all those things can represent her, so it kind of amazes me that I found a name that suited the character I had in mind.

Sorry if she feels like a mary-sue to you guest reviewer, but this was pretty much intentional. I want Amara to "seem good" and "perfect" because that's how Jon and the rest see her. She hadn't had a moment to show her faults and that would be exploring everything about her and her past, since there much more than what she said. You know how you meet someone and they seem like the most wonderful person and then you learn their flaws? That's how I'm working on her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note** : This chapter is more like a filler for episode one of S1. Hope you guys don't mind that, but it is to keep you up to date with what happened before Robert and Cersei's arrival and all that. And because it's a filler, I'll be working on the next one real soon.

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Two months had quickly spun by, letting Amara and Austin move and settled in their new home of Wintertown. It was surprisingly in the middle scale of busy and quiet since most towns were more of the former on a daily basis. She was told that the town was more populated—more like crowded and rowdy—during the seasons of Autumn and Winter and that she should enjoy the quietness and easiness of the relaxing months while she could. Summer was still here after its long reign of ten years, but it was finally coming to a well deserved finish. The warm days would be fewer until there were absolutely none and the Summer rains would be gone and back to the chilling droplets that were nearly forgotten. Although Autumn was the season of her name day, Amara always hated it because it was the time the flowers would slowly wither in a slow and sad death and the trees would lose their leaves until they were completely bare. Although the warm colors of orange and dim yellows would come, it still didn't fix the sorrowful feeling that Autumn arrived with.

To say it was easy would be somewhat of a lie. She settled in, albeit comfortably, but she had easily gotten lost and had trouble with such unfamiliar customs than the territory. There were people who greeted her with eagerness, giving her kind words and thank yous for saving Arya Stark. It made her uncomfortable how many people knew of her deed, but it made her in awe at how loved the Starks were. It was to the point that the little people were grateful that they were at full health and well, which made her wonder just what did they do for the lowborn. It was a rare sight to see that people looked at people with high status with care and not out of the usual spite.

As far as the clinic goes, Amara was impressed with that staff that had already been there. They had been welcoming at first, but gave her skeptical eyes and many questions as soon as she tried to grow comfortable. Since their last Head Physician had passed, they had been at a loss for a long while of who would fill such a position. Instinctively, they wasn't sure a girl of seventeen should be able to fill the spot, no matter the miracle she pulled. They wanted proof that she was a hardworker and good in the arts of healing, and the young healer was more than grateful that she could prove herself instead of having things handed to her. They didn't give her a free pass for what she done, but instead she earned their respect through her professionalism and savoir faire.

The only one who fit right in instantaneously was Austin, who loved Wintertown more than she would've expected he would. She thought the boy would mope and miss his old village, but he was already fond of the outlying town. Everything amazed him, especially the small pond beside their home that Amara planned to grow aquatic flowers in. His little hands would be covered in dirt, fresh with mud, as he labored in help of her growing her own flowers and herbs. The pond had been his favorite thing, spending time in watching for water flowers to grow by feeding ducks uncooked oats and cracked corn as he waited impatiently so. It had became less of a habit when he started to attend the small school with the rest of the town's children. Amara had to ease him into it, watching him complain of how boring lessons were, but all his fun came from the relationships he built.

The boy was given stability and so of course the place began to feel like home now. Amara was well aware of the people who lived here too, growing comfortable relationships with the townfolk that she had met quite often in the market square and as patients in the clinic. Her work went beyond the clinic, even to the brothels on her own accord. And from there, she formed a friendship with one girl in particular; a girl named Ros.

Their friendship didn't blossom instantaneous for no matter how friendly Ros had been, Amara had been taciturn. She didn't come for friendship but for aid, knowing that the women had been suffering from sore muscles and even maybe even illnesses that came from an intimate dance of sweltering, nude bodies. Ros wasn't offended by her modest manner, but grew more persistent whenever she had seen her. Now you wouldn't see one without the other whenever Ros or herself wasn't working. Since Ros had been near her age and in some ways mature as well as puerile, it had made Amara feel comfortable showing another side to herself.

Her friendliness with the girls in the brothels hadn't been without much talking. Even though she came as a physician and not a customer, Lady Catelyn had continuously nagged about how it wasn't a good look for her. She still sees Lady Cateyln's face in her sleep, scrunched up as she would admonish her about reckless but noble actions. Her suggestions—more like warnings—that the women ought to meet her in the clinic and for her not to attend their Whorehouse. She heard it so much, she really dreamt of it; often at that.

But in the middle of such busy weeks, Amara had found time to play.

The sound of her boots crunching the leaves seemed to echo in her ears. The vibrant green of grass was glittered with leaves of red all from the weirwood tree; the leaves were fighting the green of the grass and the brown of dirt for dominance. Her head was turned to look over shoulder, wondering if the boy was close by since he was nearing the end of his counting when she finally thought of this place. There was really no good place to hide that hadn't been taken now; Sansa was in the Glass Gardens, Arya hiding there with her, and by the sounds of their argument, she was sure Bran would find them both quickly. Austin was hiding somewhere with Rickon, and she had no idea where Jon decided to hide.

As she inched towards the peculiar yet pretty tree, a warm hand had firmly grasp her wrist and reeled her in close. Nearly frightened by the sudden rush, her face lightly thumped against the wall of a warm chest. The heat came in waves from their body, pressing through her personal space and engulfing her due to the closeness. This person was helping her hide behind the tree, keeping her close so that she hadn't ruined their cover. Her eyes were glazed in disbelief at first before broadening as they dared look up to see Jon. He remained impassive by the lack of space between them, he was far too busy peering from the side the tree; only just a little so that he couldn't be seen.

He had saw his younger brother, panting and wiping his brow with the back of his wrist. Despite the fact that Summer was still lingering, there was a mist leaving his mouth from his warm breath. His eyes were diligently scanning the place, looking for any trace of a person as he stood still to make not a clip of noise. His face began contorting to confusion, probably had already seen a glimpse of Amara running to this place. "I could've sworn…" He mumbled, not knowing his brother and the healer were behind the tree.

Standing out for a few more seconds, he gave out a shrug and decided to turn back around and leave. Normally, he was far too curious and astute to not explore the place but because he was anxious to find at least one of them on the spot, he had easily decided to head to the next place in mind. Once he was gone, Jon's eyes slowly looked down at the healer, who was looking up at him with big eyes and an pensive stare. It slowly began to hit him, the position they were in, that is. Before he could push himself away or let out a copious amount of apologies, she found the courage to speak and rid him of any unease. "Thank you." Her voice was low but audible enough to reach his ears.

"For what?" It was obvious why she was thanking him, but his mind was fairly blank at the moment. His thought process had been twisted now, so nothing made much sense and he couldn't focus on anything else. All he could do was stare back down at her, wondering if that was her that smelled of of a dewy, Summer rose with a hint of a vanilla bean.

"For helping me." To regain her normal ability of equanimity, she took a few steps back and peeked over the side of tree to find that Bran had not come back. Her eyes slowly looked back over to him, giving him a lazy grin. "I was almost caught."

He let out a short-lived laugh and then finished it with a half-smile, "I should've let him catch you. _I_ wanted to be the winner."

Just when she thought to show appreciation, he insisted on being declared winner? Her eyes immediately narrowed, her cheeks puffing up rather childishly. "Is that so? So you're having second thoughts for helping me? Thanks a lot, Jon." With a dramatic sweep, she held herself close. "And here I thought that we were friends. O, woe is me for I am nothing but a fool lost in the days of camaraderie."

Chuckling, finding her theatrics engrossing, he watched as she fluidly spun around to keep the act, allowing the leaves to be swept by the tip of her feet and briefly dance around her. Now that they were in the clear, he took a few steps away from the tree, following her as she made her way to the edge of the small and dark pool. He enjoyed seeing her looking so guileless instead of the hardened mystery she used to wear. He found that he learned more of her whenever they were alone than he had when they were in the presence of others. Jon hoped that this way her silent of way of telling him that she trusts him enough with her natural self.

Her true self was nothing he would've believed a few months ago. She was still very much a child, which made him believe she only put on a costume of a mature adult around his Lord Father and Lady Stark as well as her patients. With him, she teased, wanted to play games, and seem overly curious of a great many things. She was unapologetically honest and comfortable with her lack of skill in certain subjects. He never before would've believed that she was like this at all. If someone would've told him that two months ago, Jon would've thought they were delirious and quickly dismissed it.

When she didn't know how to sew Austin's favorite shirt, she came to him. How would he know how to sew? She was a woman, hadn't she learned needlework when she was young? At least, that's what he thought; needlework was something he thought all women should know. She said she was "too afraid" to tell Lady Catelyn for she feared the woman would force her to receive lessons from the Septa. Jon had laughed, seeing that blatant fear in her eyes since Arya filled her head with stories of how dreadfully boring ( and annoying ) Septa Mordane lessons were. Sansa was the one who came to the rescue, and compared sewing to stitching, which made Amara feel all the more embarrassed for she had already learnt of the latter so late as well.

When she needed to explain sex to Austin since he heard other children talking about it in school, she came to him again for help. Jon had no idea how to help her with that either and so he offered Theon for aid. Although Amara scolded the ward for days on end for being too graphic and also crude, she was grateful to him in the end. It was also funny to watch the woman look completely disgusted at Theon's words and demonstrations. Not one blush coated her face like he thought it would on a woman on such a subject. Maybe she had already knew much facts about it but didn't know how to explain it to a boy properly. And how a man felt during sex was surely different for a woman, Jon surmised.

All these sides of her hadn't changed much of how he felt. Just looking at her now, staring at her own reflection the dark waters in the Godswood, had only heightened them. And yet he remained silent still, opting that being around her was all he could do and was just as good. There was no reason to say anything for he knew nothing good could come out of it. He was a bastard, that hadn't changed since he known her. No woman was deserving of a man nor a child with the last name Snow.

"Amara." He called out her name, watching her head lift in alert before turning so that her dark eyes could look at him. "How is everything at the clinic?" That was his go to whenever he found himself lost yet wanting a conversation with her. Whenever he did want to say something else or more personal, he always held back and decided to ask about things he knew she would answer to.

"It's going quite well." She answered with a small smile, "Although there was an incident today." Her smile faltered just an inch, "I suppose you haven't noticed that Austin's quite angry with me."

"Oh? Why is that?" Crossing his arms, he wondered what the woman did. Usually, Jon sided with Austin in cases like this. The woman worked herself to fatigue or sometimes she had let people speak to her without care. She said it was because she knew that people wanted a rise out of her, but she hardly defended herself and Jon didn't like it.

The healer already knew whose side Jon was on by the look on his face and from his stance alone. He will probably lecture her too, but she could silently admit that she liked when he did. It was because she knew he worried for her, and doesn't everyone like knowing that someone scolded you because they cared? "There was a man that came in today, and I told him I was unable to help him and he didn't have much long of life."

His eyes were fixated on her form, watching her swing her arms as she recalled the details. "The man was hurt by my diagnosis and so he lashed out at me by calling me all types of sallies and harlots. I guess there's a rumor that I'm going to the brothels as a customer and not a physician these days. Lady Catelyn warned me that my reputation might be hurt by it, but I never really cared much of what people thought of me. Austin wanted to defend my honor but I hushed him. I let the man say whatever he wanted and he eventually left." With a smirk, her eyes seemed to sheen with a gloss of the memory of the earlier event. "My boy said to me: "Tact wasn't deservin' for people like 'im." But I'm trying to teach Austin that sometimes it is best to let people say what they want without argument."

"It wasn't right!" He rebuked, like she knew he would. "How can you let people talk to you like that? You wanted to save him but his sickness was above your skill. He should be angry with himself for getting like that, not you! And you shouldn't have taken that."

"You may be right." Her shoulders went up and down in a sloth-like shrug, her hands absently fiddling together. "But what good would of came out of it if I argued with him? We would've been two quarreling fools, no?" He didn't want to see it, but he couldn't help but catch sight of her point. There were plenty of times where Jon had to endure the insults hurled his way because that was because of his rank; the blemish in this highly honorable family. The Bastard. He simply had no choice, but Amara had one. She should've used it.

"It is better to be a quarreling fool than a person stepped on and talked down to." Amara lightly bit the inside of her cheek, wishing he would see her point and the lesson to be learned out of this. Her eyes decided to give their attention back to the small pool. What she felt shouldn't have even been compunction but it was. "Though I guess that's just me being biased since I wouldn't like someone speaking to you like that."

His words made her smile in a way of defeat. At least he was on her side in some way and that was better than not being on her side at all. Jon was in her corner, even when she was wrong. "I dare say, Jon, you attempt to be my hero on many occasions. What will all the other maidens say?"

"What other maidens?" He genuinely asked as she looked up at him, face rid of anything so that he couldn't read her.

"You didn't know? There are many women in the North who fancy you." It was mainly lowborn girls and even the whores that spoke so highly of Jon. She had never told him that even Ros spoke fondly of him, but she was ingenuously exempt of knowing that Jon had once thought of seeking Ros out for pleasure. When he learned of their friendship and her visit to the brothels, he couldn't help but feel guilty about a deed he only thought of doing before.

Not letting a silly bit of guilt overwhelm him, he noticed something more fond to him. Jon always enjoyed that impish glint in her eyes and the arrogant angle she would tilt her head as she awaited for his reaction. It made her seem her age or even younger when she did that. It made her more approachable too, making conversation easy and fun but overall light. "I'm not sure why they would fancy me." He answered rather humbly, "But I'm not all that interested either way."

"For shame, Jon Snow. For. Shame." Amara shook her head, her hand on her chest as if to feel sorry for the women who covet him. "I suppose another will have to do for them." Slipping her hand off her chest to fold them behind her, she couldn't help but feel slightly relieved that Jon wasn't interested in any of these women. Then again, it made her worry if Jon was pushing out all women in his life because of what he was. Amara couldn't have it both ways, but if it kept Jon unmarried then she could enjoy it for a little while. "You can't be like that forever, can you?"

Stuck in between honesty and aloofness, he decided to be a mixture of the two for the sake of his pride. "I won't be." Dark grey eyes found interest in the ground in relatively mousy manner, "or at least I hope not."

Vague. Why was he so vague? There were many of times where Jon was so hard to read. Her eyebrow rose in question, her lips practically wanting to move to ask if he was actually interested in someone in particular. It would be nosy of her and she would not like the answer either way, she was sure of it. Her feelings for Jon were in every sense of the word complicated. She liked him, she knew that much, but it wasn't worth the pursuit. Jon may be a bastard now, but what if his father needed him later? He'd be legitimate ( despite Catelyn's protests ) and then be farther out of reach than he was even now. So she could like him all she wanted now, but that was all the more it would be. Never could it progress to something more and she was content with that. After all that was said and done in the hopes of romance, Amara was scared of the word love and all that came with it.

"There you two are." Amara quickly whipped her head to see Robb and gave him a smile, "He's found everyone else, but you two. Why didn't he think to look here with you two sitting out like rabbits in the open?"

Amara playfully rolled her eyes, "We hid, that's why. We saw him and he looked for a little bit and left." Walking towards the eldest Stark, she gently nudged his side with her elbow. "Now we're definitely going to lose because of you."

"Sorry about that, I just wanted to come here and think." His words left both his half-brother and the healer in a state of questioning. What did Robb need to think about? What was bothering him? What could plague the ever so stalwart Robb Stark to the point he needed to sit in meditation?

"My apologies, Young Lord." His eyes looked at her with warning, making her almost feel small under his icy glare. It seemed like those eyes of his grew sharper with every time she said that title, but she would not relent. It was the way of the world, and she had to show propriety no matter if he liked it or not. "I can leave if you still need the time to think."

Jon had stepped forward, "I can leave too, if you want."

"I don't really need to be left alone." He glanced back and forth between the two, "Maybe you both could help or at least one of you."

Crinkling her eyes, she tried to summon a cheery expression in efforts to just lift his spirits by the slightest margin. The healer mainly felt worried than she felt happy, but if Robb needed the latter than she would give it in hopes to help. "If you'd like."

The heir went towards the mossy boulders to take a seat and Jon followed him to sit beside him. Amara opted to stand, not feeling that performing such closeness with Robb would be the proper thing to do. Her eyes roamed his form, trying to catch any sign or give away in the language of his body. Robb could be every bit if illusive if he wanted to, but it was the look in his eyes that gave him away. They just seemed annoyed and maybe even sad, which made her sympathize with him without needing to know what was plaguing him so heavily.

"Mother says I'll have to marry soon, but she is in no rush." Ah, of course. Robb was seventeen and would be eighteen in another month or so, he would have to marry soon. He was the heir to Winterfell after all and they would need for him to give sons so that they could be the next and the cycle would go on. And yet, Amara could see that he was not all that enthused, not by the slightest.

"What's wrong with that?" Jon asked, "Don't you want a life with a wife? A litter of wolves bearing your name?" For a moment, the healer thought she had heard a faint but prominent bit of jealousy in Jon's voice. Her eyes began to soften knowing very well that Jon wanted a life like that, but he could have it one day. After all, bastards still held a level of importance even if they hadn't thought it would come true.

His brother nodded rather solemnly in answer, "I do, but I don't want to marry out of obligation. I don't want my wife to be a stranger whom I've never met." It was charming in the sorts to know that Robb believed in the romantic side of marriage. That his heart was soft and yearning in the idea of marriage out of love than out of allied houses, but that would mean that Robb was truly born on the wrong part of society. It was a rarity and a true fortune to marry someone you love as a highborn, and he would have to grow used to the fact that you do not get everything you wanted in this life.

"Have they picked a girl for you already or it is still in thought?" She dared asked, seeing as questions were fine since he sought their advice.

"Still in thought, thank the Gods." He sounded relieved for sure. "It's just been bothering me is all."

Nodding, she inched her way over and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. His eyes gazed up at her, his eyes dancing between surprise and gratitude. "You never know, Young Lord, you might fall in love with this future wife of yours a little later on than at first. Love works in mysterious ways."

Jon gave a wry smile, his eyes glancing away from his brother and up at the healer. "I suppose it does." Robb said quietly, his eyes averted from her and looking down to the ground.

"Why worry over something that isn't even in the pot yet?" She questioned, brow hitched. "You're just gonna worry yourself to death for no reason." Her eyes caught his looking up at her, a half smile tugging his lips. At least she helped him up some, "Focus on other things and then that, you still have some time."

"You cheer me up better than my own brother." Of course he was only teasing, she was sure that his words weren't true. The corner of his eyes were trying to catch wind of Jon's reaction, watching him frown and straighten his brows at the bridge of his nose while dishing out a glare. Amara chuckled at the sight, seeing that she wasn't the only one who got a kick out of making fun of him. "Jon, you ought to take some lessons in the ways of support."

With a roll of his moonless eyes, he stood up from the bench. "Why do I even bother with you?" He mumbled, arms crossed as the healer watched with piqued interest. "And you find this funny? Of course _you_ would."

Her teeth sunk down on her plump, bottom lip so that she would not let out anymore snorts or sputters of laughter. Even at her best, she found the task becoming harder as Jon's eyes did not leave her as they glared at her accusingly. Her eyes then tried to widen in a look of innocence, her head tilting at an angle to make her seem demure as if to say: _"I would never"_ , but that hadn't work. He squinted instead, increasing the accusations and adding a sprinkle of skepticism. Her lips were practically trembling now, trying her hardest to keep her composure.

Robb eyes moved like a pendulum, going back and forth, seeing the difference in behavior between the two now than when they had first met. Jon was less shy than he had ever been around a woman and Amara was much more livelier than that mature woman than he thought her to be. You would've thought they had been best friends for along time with they way they acted around each other as of late. It was in many ways refreshing to see Jon making friends outside the castle, especially with someone of the opposite gender. In a way, he couldn't help but envy his brother in this regards too.

He wanted to say that he and the healer were friends but she kept on with such high titles and formalities that left him feeling blocked. It was as if she kept a barrier between the two and he could not step over or crawl his way under even with his efforts. She held no borders with Jon but there were just so many with him. Robb understood it though, going through the notions in his head many times before on why that would be. She kept formalities with Sansa and Arya despite her friendships with them too. She gave them all titles, so he wasn't the odd one out. Theon and Jon were a ward and a bastard, so she had every right to be informal with them.

His eyes observed like a spectator as the two indulged themselves in their playful banter. His eyes catching the sight of light in his brother's eyes as they reflected the woman. It made him wonder if Jon was so comfortable because he actually liked her in a romantic sense. It should've been obvious to Robb before, but the way Jon usually was with women wouldn't give food to the thought. Yet now, seeing him smile so easily and not draw himself back like a wounded pup had been very much visible to him now. But Amara? How did she feel about Jon? The woman could've settled down for love and marriage in Wintertown. Why hadn't she married or fallen for anyone yet? Maybe she had but it hadn't been news to him yet.

There was this underlying feeling of gratefulness in the back of his mind that she was not bound to someone. If she had, they wouldn't had been able to see her as often and Robb had felt selfish about thinking that. Who would feel grateful that someone was unloved and unwed? "Young Lord," Being pulled from his thoughts, his eyes looked up to see Amara with her arms akimbo. "Did Jon ever tell you how he gave me Theon Greyjoy to help Austin learn about…" Her eyes shut squeezing tight in efforts to reel in her anger, "about sexual intercourse?"

His eyes snapped open, going as wide as they could, before they darted towards his brother. The corner of his lips rose in a knowing smile, "So that's what Theon was trying to tell me about!" He said, thinking back on one day in particularly where Theon could barely utter a sentence without falling in a fit of laughter. He even gone as far to holding his stomach and tilt his head insanely far back from how hard he laugh. Robb had thought him strange then, but now he was putting all the pieces together now. "He wouldn't give me any names, so it was you two?"

"Yes!" Amara barked, her eyes focusing on Jon in a heated passion of infuriation. "You should scold Jon for me!" Robb didn't know if that was a serious plead or not, "Theon was the worst!" His brother was still laughing, pools of tears building up at the corner of his eyes before raining down. Jon was certainly rewinding the memory of it all in his head over and over, laughing harder each time he did. "And he still laughs about it!"

If Robb could be honest—he won't seeing how angry Amara was about the situation still—he would've gone to Theon about it himself had she asked him. Robb had to hold onto his honor for his wife and so he couldn't give a first hand experience explanation of sex to anyone. He may have teased Jon about being a virgin, but that's because his half-brother had the luxury of being with any woman he wanted like his father's ward could. There was no need for them to bar themselves from carnal pleasure. At least Theon took advantage of his rights while Jon, well, Robb wasn't sure why he was taking so long.

With a titter and a removal of any further thoughts about virginity and what not, Robb stood on his feet. "Theon told me he had fun with that, but I can't imagine why." It didn't seem fun at all, explaining what it was and how it was to be done with a child? He could only guess how confused Austin was and now the boy was probably startlingly curious. If Theon went too far with it than he couldn't imagine what the child was conjuring up in his head since that talk.

"'Cause he's a pervert, that's why!" Since it was so rare to see her truly angry and a outburst of it to boot, it was humorous to both the Stark boys.

Joining in on his brother's fun, Robb hitched a brow. "But Theon got the job done, didn't he?" Her mouth was agape in shock, a flash of disbelief crossing her eyes. Capturing that look well enough to lock in in his memories, he started to sprint before he knew the woman would give chase.

With a clench of her teeth, the healer went sprinting after him. "Get back here!" She yelled, running after him as Jon ran after them both in efforts to catch up.

 **:::**

After chasing Robb through the courtyard, she was stilled as Bran had to practice his archery with his brothers watching and even in the audience of his father and mother at the training ring. It was because Austin wanted to watch that she lingered, finding the sight of a bow making her grimace as it filled her with a heavy case of nostalgia. Her eyes forced themselves to look away and fixated on Austin, who was keeping his eyes set on Bran in a rather hopeful gaze. One thought that skimmed her mind every and now and then became much more forceful to be acknowledged. Not wanting to push it back again, she had decided to finally give Austin this well-deserved talk. "Do you want to learn how to wield a weapon, Austin?" She had asked, her face morphed in curiosity with a hint of dread. Austin did not at all seem the violent type, but the way he shot his mouth off, he ought to learn to fight.

"Yes." His answer was fast much to her surprise and left her a bit taken back. Part of her had hoped that he would refuse, but she knew better than to think that or to even hope for it. "I want to learn how to use a sword like Lord Stark and Lord Robb… and Jon." His eyes averted from Bran to gaze up at her, seeing her eyes dance between hesitation and understanding. "Why?" His eyes were shining inquisitively, "Did you think I should learn the bow instead?"

"No," Her head shook, "I was just curious of what you wanted to learn." Placing her hand on his head, she gave it a slight rub as her fingers stroke the softness of his curls of blond. "You should know how to defend yourself. You will be a man and a man that cannot learn how protect himself is a dead one."

Careful not to give her voice high volume, she said this so that only Austin could hear her. She did not want to trouble or hurt Bran, who was struggling with hitting a steady target. He was at least learning while her son remained unskilled, which bothered her but made her want to keep the innocence of not having to shed blood. Amara could not have it both ways, she knew, but she was afraid that this happy-go-lucky boy would become a hardened man with a smile a hard thing to come by.

"Who will teach me?" His question left her rather quiet since she wasn't sure who would. Her eyes looked to Jon, thinking that he may be able to. Jon had been the first person she came running to and she was starting to feel the weight of that coming down on her rather heavy. The healer relied on him too much and she was sure that Jon would hate it if she kept on. Robb was the young lord of Winterfell, so did he even have the time? It would be efficient to ask Lord Eddard who he thought would be a great teacher because she refused to let Austin join the ranks as a soldier. Her heart wouldn't let her; it was a soft heart, too protective of the young in her care. She refused to lose this smiling, happy boy. _Her boy_.

Her hands were resting on his shoulders now, eyes staring hard and down at the ground in thought. Not once had she noticed that Robb picked up on her ruminate expression. "Amara?" His voice tried to reach her, but she was too deep into her thoughts to catch him the first time. "Amara," That time she had heard him, her eyes snapping up to look at him with her lips parted to show how dazed she was. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She answered, "I was just thinking is all."

"About?" Robb pursued, not letting her off the hook with that simple thinking. Whatever had her in thought like this was surely something serious. "You can tell me."

His words were reassuring and they did make her relax some; not completely, but some. "I was thinking of who would be able to teach Austin the way of the sword."

"Really?" The corners of his lips dipped down in a slight frown, "Why didn't you ask me?"

"I thought you'd be too busy to train a commoner boy." His head moved in a slow nod, understanding why she had been quiet about it now. "Besides, there's nothing you could possibly gain out of it. I don't want him to be a soldier. He is of not of upperclass to be a squire nor a ward."

His green eyes stared up at them, noting that they were talking as if he wasn't even there. Austin didn't take offense, Amara always asked for his opinion, but he was stumped on why she hadn't thought of who he wanted to be trained by. What if he was a certain person? Well, maybe that just wasn't up to him. He was just lucky that someone like Robb had wanted to train him and he shouldn't push down his luck while it was still there.

"Did you seriously think I'd have to gain something, Amara?" Part of him took offense to her words while the other fathomed why she thought he'd deny her. "What if I wanted to because Austin is very much like a little brother to me?"

The Stark boy's words had the blond-haired boy beaming, eyes big and gleaming with happiness. Amara's heart warmed at the sight as her shoulders drooped down as she released a sigh, "This would be asking too much."

"You don't ask anything of me, and so I am offering." Robb bent his knees, making sure he was eye-to-eye with Austin, "How about it, Austin? Would you like for me to train you?"

"Of course!" There was not one doubt in her mind that Austin would let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He was practically grinning from ear-to-ear, obviously excited about training with Robb. He even enjoyed the way the eldest Stark ruffled his hair as his knees made him move in a jittery dance.

Whenever Austin was this happy, Amara could not deny him. In fact, she rarely could deny him much of anything. He just had his way most of the time. Austin slowly turned to Amara, head tilted back so that he could fully look up at her as his hands grabbed hers tightly. "I'm gonna learn from the Young Lord!" His voice was teetering between happiness and disbelief.

"Indeed you are." She forced a smile, eyes slit-closed to make it further believable. Austin had neared Bran, whispering in his ear since he was too eager to tell him. Amara took this distraction further question Robb. Her approach was slow, her brows knitting together to make her confusion much more present. "I don't see how you'd have the time to do this."

"I have the time." He merely shrugged, arms folded across his chest as his eyes watched his second youngest brother. "I'm not as busy as you'd think. I have jobs to do and I do them, but I do them well so that I have enough time train Austin."

Her mind still couldn't just accept his answer, "Then I will owe you a favor."

"You owe me nothing." His voice said it in a way where it was a done deal and that there was no room for her to argue. Amara parted her lips, ready to try, but the look on his face made her close them and just shift uncomfortably in place. "Think of this as me helping you as a friend or me still being thankful that you saved Arya."

His blue eyes shift away from his brother and at the young woman, watching her rub her arm as she looked down to the ground in thought again. He awaited to see if she still didn't believe him, but after a few seconds she gave a slow and stiff nod. "Alright then, if you insist."

"You like fighting, don't you?" Her eyes raised to look at him, catching that smirk on his face. "You can never just take yes for an answer."

He was right. Amara could not simply accept a yes like she could a no, but she had her reasons. "It is because I've been fooled many times over before, Young Lord. I'm not saying that I think you're lying to me or that there is a motive behind your answer, but I'm just not used to people doing things out of the kindness of their heart. So, forgive me if you think that I think negative of you because I don't. It is just your kindness amazes me sometimes…"

Her words left him stunned, the ticker in his chest flooded him with warmth as her eyes shyly stayed to the floor. It would've overwhelmed him if he hadn't seen that flash of hurt quickly make itself known. It made him wonder just who had something once ( or many times in fact ) to make her so wary of compassionate people? He wanted to ask. In fact, he was fighting himself not to because now was not the time or place to ask such a person question.

"And which one of you were a marksman at ten?"

Ned's voice had startled her slightly, not enough for it to show but for her heart to jump a bit. Her eyes looked over at Jon, having heard him snicker along with little Rickon. His eyes caught her staring and she gave a snort, leaving him feeling quite embarrassed that she was here to witness that. Robb had made his way over, giving Bran some pointers and leaving Amara wondering if she shouldn't feel so guilty about accepting Robb's offer. Her eyes looked to Austin, seeing how supportive he was being to his friend. That was enough to shake her guilt, if only temporarily.

Bran's training was abruptly interrupted, everyone had caught sight of the arrow piercing dead center in the target while Bran's arrow was still being readied by the bow. It hadn't came much of a surprise to Amara to see that it was Arya who had showed off. Her eyes crinkled at the sight of the family in laughter and Bran on his way to chase her down, she found herself unable to want to stick around longer than she needed to. She would have to go back to the clinic and do some work, which made her eyes linger towards Winterfell's gates in preparation.

"Amara." Turning to look at Jon, she gave him her full attention. "Leaving already?"

"I ought to." She nodded, "I enjoyed this little break I was allowed but now I must go back to work. There are people that need me."

He couldn't argue with that since she was physician, the head one at that. Amara worked so tirelessly just about every day and this was the first time in a few weeks he had been able to be with her for more than an hour and now she wanted to work again? How could the woman run herself so ragged and at the price of people that thought they could talk to her anyway they'd like?

"But you haven't…" He knew it was pointless, but he wanted to try. "You haven't even—"

"I know." Already knowing what he was going to say, she gave him a nudge. "I'll be alright, so don't worry about me." She knew that her words didn't settle well with him but she wasn't going to argue her point. Jon could say anything right about now and she wouldn't accept them. She had to work; she'd never let her job be second to rest. "C'mon Austin, let's get going."

"Already?" His head was thrown back, a groan escaping him as his small feet marched against the ground as he walked towards her. Of course he'd throw his tantrum, like he usually did. It would not make her change her mind but she did find it amusing each time he did it.

"Yes already." Being firm and sticking by her words, she rose a brow as if to question if he wanted to challenge her authority. "Did you think I'd let you skip school?"

His eyes noted her look and he shook his head in defeat. "No," He muttered, "you wouldn't." As easygoing and understanding as she was with him, there was one thing the woman was always strict about: school. Amara would never dare let him be unlearned; there was no pity for those willfully ignorant. He had school and then he had a two hour reading session at home, she made sure of it and scolded him when he got distracted by something else. If there was ever a chance that she was not around to watch him grow, Amara wanted him to possess enough knowledge to keep on going without her and to never depend on another.

"Then let's go." Holding out her hand, she watched as he grabbed onto hers rather bitterly. Still amused at his sudden attitude, knowing that he still wasn't over the incident with the patient earlier, she let out a quiet snort. Her eyes looked over at Jon, seeing him watching them and then giving a slight wave. Her free hand rose to repeat the gesture as she and Austin made their way to the gates of the castle.

Something was going on though, she could tell how some of the men seemed to be preparing for something. Whatever it was, she didn't want to stick around and find out since she was sure it was not something troubling enough that Eddard Stark couldn't handle. It had been a while since she last spoke to him, wondering if he was taking his own health to consideration at times. Lady Catelyn was better at nagging at him and Maester Luwin kept a lone eye on him, so it was not in her place to question much of anything concerning him.

"Did you tell Jon about that stupid man from the clinic?"

 _'Stupid man.'_ It tickled her to know that's what he named him. The man's name left her mind and was just about on the tip of her tongue, but she decided that man's name wasn't worth remembering now. "I did, and he agreed with you."

"I knew he would!" Smug, he lifted his chin with a grin. "Jon is always on my side of things."

Her eyes threatened to roll but she kept a smile on her lips, "You are right. Jon does tend to agree with you, but that doesn't mean either of you are right."

"But the man wasn't!" His voice rose, standing by his thoughts.

"But you were wrong, Austin. You did not need to call the man names." Unable to continue forward until they got this discussion through, she stopped her walking and stood facing him. His eyes fiercely looked elsewhere, not daring to meet her own. Amara sighed heavily upon his actions and bent her knees, slipping her hand out of his to press both of them to his face to turn him to look at her. His eyes still kept their act of aversion, giving her no indication he would relent.

The role of disciplinarian was simply not for her. She was far too weak at heart to want to admonish him, especially when he looked so penitent. "What you did was wrong," She began to say, smoothing the process and keeping her voice low so that only he could hear her. This conversation was for her and him only, and she wouldn't let the others interfere or direct her in what to do. They hadn't even reached the gate yet and they needed to have this conversation.

Many older men and women would try to direct her on what to do as a parent, especially her colleagues at the clinic. Although she knew they were trying to help, Amara didn't think that hitting the boy and the other punishments they would offer were any good. Amara would never lay her hands on her boy in a harmful way, even when they all shook their heads and call her "soft"; she would take it without dispute. "I know that, but he doubted you and called you a sally! I couldn't just let 'im get away with it."

Her lips wanted to pull up in a smile, knowing very well that the boy only wanted to defend her honor. It was part of the reason why she didn't want to punish him, but she knew that allowing him to say whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted was not good for him. He would have to learn tact, even to people who were undeserving of it. "He is dying, Austin." Letting her hands leave his face, she gathered his small hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. "He is bitter because he knows life is not long for him. Nobody likes to be told that death is upon them."

"That doesn't give 'im the right! You are no sally, you care for whores because whores are people too!" At least Austin knew that; that whores were people despite their jobs. Maybe it was because the boy had a crush on Ros that he was so understanding. Her mind could recall how bashful he was and how he enjoyed being near the red-haired woman whenever he had the chance.

"You are very much right, Austin." Nodding, she could see how astonished he was that she had agreed with him. "But that was not the time or place." Annoyed, his surprise turned sour and his eyes dared to look away from her again. "What have I told you? You must be careful with your words. Do you know there are people out there that can and will cut you down because of mere words?" She could feel his hands unloosening from their fists of anger as he slowly let his eyes linger back at her, soaking in her words. "Do you think I would like to lose you?" As much as he fought not to, he ended up smiling anyways and shook his head rather slowly in answer. "Then don't let me lose you."

Feeling his small body rush forward, his arms around her neck in an embrace, the healer sighed as she found herself melting into the hug. Her arms wrapped themselves around him, her hand rubbing the back of his head. "I'm sorry." His voice was muffled since his mouth was practically in her hair, but she had heard him well enough. "I'll try to be better next time."

"Thank you." After a few minutes of the immensely warm embrace, she felt him pull away so that his green eyes looked into her blue ones. "Now, are you still angry with me?"

"No." He shook his head, "I could never be angry with you."

The made her hold him again, much more tightly this time. There were many things she had lost in this world and something precious she had to give up in order to find meaning to living this life she had now. Now that she was given another chance of happiness in this boy that loved her without question, she felt that some of her guilt of the past could stay there and she would never had to worry anymore.

"Now," her head moved in a slight tilt, "would it be too much for me to ask for a kiss?"

His eyes looked around, making sure that nobody was looking, "Right here?" He whispered, "I'm going to be starting sword training soon and I have to be tough!"

Chuckling, Amara's eyes crinkled. "Is that so? Too tough to give me a kiss? I see, I won't ask."

"But if you insist." His lips gave her a quick peck on the cheek, making her smile much more wider. "No more of those! I am going to become a man, and men don't kiss their mothers anymore. The next girl I kiss will be a girl I love."

"I know, I know." Not completely over the fact the boy looked at her as his own mother, she gave his knuckles a quick kiss as she held his hands much more firmly. "You will no longer be my boy, but my little man. And who is this girl you love?"

"Ros, of course!" The determination he held in his eyes troubled her. Whenever Austin was fixed on something, he never would give up. "I'm gonna grow up and make her fall in love with me. Then, she wouldn't have to work in the brothel anymore and be my wife! Just like that. I can protect her from those strange men, and protect you too from guys like that wanker earlier."

Charmed, Amara decided to believe in him and make him think that all of these things that he dreamed could come true. She would not rid him of his fantasies, "You've mapped out quite a lot for your future. Tell me, how long have you been planning this?"

"Quite a while now." Austin nodded, "I want to protect you and everyone else I care about. I even promised Bran that we'll always be friends and even fight in battles together. Isn't that neat? We'll be like Lord Ned and King Robert except I'm poor, but that doesn't change anything. I'll become somethin'."

"I can't wait to see you accomplish all these things, my sweet boy."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note** : The faves and follows make me so happy! Don't worry, the action will pick up soon and I took a scene from the books and replaced it from a scene in the tv show. It's nothing major though.

Minstorai: I always loved Ros and I wanted to see more of her and I'm still hurt she's gone. Haha, I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't sure how I was going to go about it. I kinda regret not having Jon be the one that's it. *Squeals* I'm glad you like it. Way grateful, I'd think she be shell-shocked if Tormund even told Austin the story about Shella. She'd be so pissed. I'd like to think she would like Tormund though, but cringe a lot when he talked. ( Tormund is the best; weird, but the best! ) Thank you so much. Your reviews make me so happy!

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The sight of the direwolf pups made her all the more leery and keep a reasonable distance at times. Regardless at how acquiescent they could be, she had mixed feelings about them still. They were cute now but they would grow and they would live up to their names and dark reputations behind them. Jon had chalked it up to her being afraid of them and tried to sweeten the blow by letting her pet Ghost; his albino direwolf. It was wary of her too but allowed such suggestions since Jon was trusting of her, but she only felt more afraid of them than comforted by even the thought of petting him. Even now, as she sat beside Sansa, she kept her eyes on Lady whenever she could. If it weren't for the task she was doing, she could've possibly burned holes through the wolf with her eyes alone.

The light furs they adorned kept them warm from that quick, sharp chill that was riding in the breeze. It would make you shiver when it brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of goosepimples in its wake. It hadn't stopped her though or ruined much of the outing; her fingers were still working themselves away, nimble as she tried to make the pace much quicker. The healer was weaving strong, green stems into a fine and secure braid. Her eyes wanted to avert from it to observe the wolf but she knew this was more in need of her attention. Sansa had wanted a crown of flowers, specifically pink Magnolias that the healer found in the outskirts of the town. Sansa loved them when she first saw them and asked if she could have a few, but Amara promised her a crown, which made the young girl's face light up with a beaming smile.

As they sat on the moss-covered stones in the Godswood, Sansa kept moving her dress in order to not dirty the hem of it. "The King will be coming to Winterfell any day now." said the thick, auburn-haired girl with her sweet smile adorning her face. The healer knew that this excitement wasn't because of the king per se, but more so for the eldest prince that the girl possibly was hoping to take a fancy to.

Ros had already told her of the arrival of the king after everyone had heard the death of the Hand, Jon Arryn, and wondered if he would enter the brothel himself. Most of the girls in brothel were so curious about it because everyone in Westeros knew how much the king loved to lay with anyone pretty and willing while drunk off his horse. Amara had felt pity for the queen upon knowing that, but Lady Catelyn told her that woman was "undeserving" of such pity. It was clear that there was some strife between them but Amara never found the time to ask why. Then there was a reputation behind a certain brother of the queen that was coming too, which made her a little only somewhat interested about the king's arrival.

With a smile, she added a Calla Lily into the braid. "Are you hoping to see Prince Joffrey?" Already aware of the answer, she knew that this was a conversation that Sansa had wanted. It was best to be fleshed out so that the girl could say everything that she wanted to. That was how you had to converse with her, Amara had learned that during the times she spent with her.

"Yes!" The redhead nearly blushed at her sudden enthusiasm, "I heard he's handsome." Her hands seemed restless, constantly moving in her lap as she looked at the ground in a rather dreamy gaze. Her mind kept conjuring up images of the prince and how he would behave with such nobility and grace. He would be everything she ever wanted, of that she was most definitely sure of. Nothing could tell Sansa otherwise.

The girl was still young, so of course her mind still believed in songs and stories of what fairytales written and drawn love to be. The healer did not fault her for this but neither was she sure if she should encourage such daydreams. After knowing firsthand that love was not like chirping birds or blooming Spring flowers, but more so like hurtful thorns of a bewitching rose or being in the eye of a storm; both beautiful yet frightening as it was a chaotic force. "What if, my lady…" Unsure if she should say it, she kept on anyway, "the Prince isn't everything you dream of him to be? You ought to limit yourself for some people do not live up to our expectations of them."

A look of thought came quick across the young girl's face but it was quickly swept away by the currents of her reverie. "I'm positively sure that won't be the case." Confident, as well as iron-willed, the young girl firmly nodded to further cement her words. Amara didn't argue but she hoped her words lingered in the girl's mind, at least once during the time of the prince's arrival. "Have you ever been in love before?" Sansa inquired, eyes swirling with curiosity. "What is love like? Mother says it is a thing you work for; it's not instant like in books and stories."

To that, Amara could agree wholeheartedly to Lady Stark's words. No matter how much they hadn't seen eye-to-eye on many things, she could definitely say they were leveled in regards to that. Yet what made Amara so unsure was whether the Lady of Winterfell was speaking of her own experience with her husband or just in general. Never had Amara had the thought or chance to ask in efforts to discover the roots of their marriage. It was never her place to ask and she never once thought about it until now. However, there was definitely no easy way to explain something like love to Sansa.

"I was infatuated when I was young, near your age when I was betrothed." Keeping her eyes on the task, her pacing had slowed down as she began lengthening the chain as she spoke. "Qasar was a warrior, a fine one, and he fought with my family in the Bone Mountains of Yi Ti. Our people were once rivals for many years but we decided to come together through marriage." The young girl looked at the healer's face, trying to read her expression. There was nothing to read though since the woman remained vacant, building a wall around her as she usually had. Maybe the story had made the woman grow cold when remembering, Sansa thought.

"Qasar was very sweet and kind to me." A small smile presented itself on the woman's lips, capturing Sansa's attention since it left rather quickly. "He would bring me flowers, mainly red Camellias. I thought I loved him because I enjoyed spending time with him… Then I realized that it was more or less me forcing myself to love him because I had no choice for I would be his wife. Marriage for highborns isn't out of love, but out of power; I was too young, too naïve, to realize that."

"So…" Trying to make sense of it, the young girl tilted her head in thought. "You're saying you do not know the difference since you thought you loved him when you really didn't?"

"I'm saying that I liked him because he was kind to me and because he would be my husband." Carefully inspecting the chain, she glanced at the shape of the girl's head to see if it would fit before weaving the ends of the stems into the first Magonlia's. "I had no reason other than that to love him, and that is not what love is. Do not think you are in love, never think it, my lady. You must know it for love is a feeling, not a thought."

It hadn't mattered in the end since Sansa was completely sure that she would fall in love with Joffrey at first sight. A part of her did decide to remember Amara's words out of consideration however. Her eyes gazed at the beautiful crown of flowers, hoping that Amara had finished it. "There." Crowning the red-haired girl, like a queen, she watched the way the girl's natural beauty seemed to become more breathtaking with the flowers' stems matching her green dress and the petals themselves highlighting the true red of her hair. "You look beautiful, my lady."

"Really?" Wanting to see how she looked, she stood as her graceful fingers briefly touched the soft sepals of one of the Magnolias as she grew eager to see in her reflection. "Should we show mother?"

"I'm sure Lady Catelyn wouldn't mind to see it." Without another word, the girl grabbed her hand and Amara was forced to her feet. The sound of leaves crunching below their feet in a steady rhythm that rippled away the memories of Qasar that recently came in waves through her memories. He was becoming less and less visible in her mind's eye now as she focused on the sounds of Sansa's giggles. The enchanting sound provided voice to the music of nature that consisted of the sounds of swaying trees from the unseeable wind and the ruffling of leaves of the red leafs of the Heart tree.

The trees around them were starting to change in a dream-like way, fading and becoming viridescent before her to be the rainforests she had grown up around. Her eyes dilated with a mixture of wistfulness and horror as the sound of Sansa's giggles changed into a richer, deeper laughter that was obviously a boy's. Blue irises began to see no more of Sansa, but a young boy instead. A young boy with long, obsidian hair that was tied into a tight and neat braid that cascaded down to the middle of his back. His head slowly turned to gaze at her from over his shoulder, giving her the bright and golden eyes of her father because of their grandmother of Leng.

Her lips trembled as her eyes began to glass with clear, salty droplets that wanted so desperately to fall. That face belonged to no other person than Naran. Her mind conjured up this older version of him, of what she would believe he would look like now. No longer a boy, but very much a man now. How cruel can memories be? His face was haunting her now, even while the sun was in full display and she was completely awake. He was giving her these smiles that had been only meant for her but they were no longer a sight she wishes to see. They had not made her warm but served to make her writhe inside out from the invisible pangs of guilt that skewered away at her. That boy, a happy one; a sweet one. He was that no longer and she was the only one to blame for that.

 _"Sister!"_ She could hear him say. The overwhelming layer of an YiTish accent taking the power of Common Tongue away, _"Tell me that we'll run away together."_

 _"Of course!"_ She heard her own voice, young and much more happier in tone. It was a time where she was blissfully unaware of the future that was crawling its way closer. _"Where would I go without you, Naran? There's no place I'd rather be without you beside me. I'll never leave you… not now or ever."_

It was a subconscious thing, the reason why she held onto Sansa's petite hand much more firmly. She tried to force herself away from the memories that were merging too much with reality. How crazy did she look right now? Her eyes must've looked so completely void and wide because it was lost in a better place in her mind. Sansa's face morphed from happiness to panic in a matter of seconds, stopping her run to grab hold of both of Amara's hands. "Amara!" She called out to her, bringing the woman completely out of her trance and slowly turn to look at the redhead girl before her. "Are you all right? What is the matter?" Her voice was laced so heavily with concern.

With a vigorous nod and a forced smile, Amara began to try to ease the girl from any sort of worries. "But of course, my lady, I was simply thinking of something."

It was clear that Sansa was doubtful of her explanation and Amara was grateful that the girl cared enough to pry. "Are you sure?" She questioned, "If you want, we could talk about it."

Shaking her head out of refusal, the healer kept her smile. "Yes, I am sure." Blinking away her tears, she had hoped her voice wasn't too weak as it was holding little quakes here and there as she continued to will herself not to cry. "Now come on, let us go." She urged her, glad that Sansa kept on. The girl still held her hand resolutely, letting the other go as they kept on except they were walking now in a slow, comforting pace with Sansa leading her. Lady was at their feet, walking alongside them, letting out a few barks every now and then.

Lady Catelyn was still preparing for the arrival of the king, and so it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that finding her was going to be quite a feat in itself. After some searching, they found her at the Great Hall in Winterfell, giving orders left and right. Amara admired the strong authority the woman held. She was every bit of a lady or a leader most like, and she thought that if Lady Catelyn had ever wielded a weapon or tried her hand at war, she'd be formidable. "Mother!" Sansa called out to her, making the older woman turned to look at her. "What do you think of my crown? Amara made it for me."

With a smile, she gathered her skirts and walked over to them to examine the crown of flowers closely. With her graceful strides, her eyes were drinking up the sight of the floral ringlet adorning her eldest girl's head. "They are beautiful." She said, inclining her head forward as her hand rose to let the tip of her slender fingers skim over the soft sepals. "What are these flowers called?"

"Magnolias." Amara answered, her eyes looking at the flowers now. "Lady Sansa really seems to love them. They grow in the outskirts of Wintertown, but we won't be seeing much of them since they are wilting away as all flowers due in Autumn."

Her hands folded before her, her eyes glancing away from the crown to watch Lady Catelyn's pupils continue to appraise the flowers once more before shifting her focus to her now. "I can see why she loves them." She commented, her voice soft and a slight smile on her lips. Her face had soon hardened, probably from a thought that came to the forefront of her mind. She looked more stern now, "Have either of you seen Brandon?"

The healer shook her head but there was a knowing smirk on her face, "No, I haven't." She answered, "But I can guess what he's doing right now." Lady Catelyn let out a long exhale since she too knew what Bran was probably—actually was—up to. "If you'd like, I can go look for him. I have to leave soon anyway."

Grateful of the offer, the woman refused. "No, I'll look for him." Catelyn insisted. "I don't know how many times I have to warn him about climbing the walls, but boys will be boys." Gathering her skirts against, she glanced at Amara. "I hope we can speak again soon, I'm sorry neither one of us has had the time to talk much."

"I hope so too, and we are both busy women." With a smile, she was glad to see the Tully-born give her one in return. "Hopefully, we'll have the time to talk over a cup of tea, but until then…" With a nod, Catelyn fled out of the Great Hall and down the corridor.

"Where will you be going?" Sansa asked, eyes studying her with question. Amara always seemed so busy nowadays and rarely had time for them; them being her and her siblings, she meant. "You didn't even stay long last time and now you're leaving again so early?"

"I'm sorry." Lowering her head some with her apology, she let out a rather tired sigh. "Many people are coming to town since Winter is on the approach, that leaves me and the staff with many more patients these days. Even outsiders who do not even intend on staying come to the clinic after learning what I've done for your sister. They think I'm a God or something…" She mumbled the last bit, annoyed how some people thought she could do the impossible these days.

Nodding, the redhead understood the sudden change of things as well as the pressure. "It is because you are a good healer. You should be making a lot of coins, right?"

"I suppose," Amara shrugged, "but I tend to give some of them away. Austin and I do not need all of what I earn."

Shocked, Sansa blinked several times in her astonishment. "What?! Are you mad?! You should keep it and buy yourself nice things like dresses and jewelry. You should treat yourself to things."

With a chuckle, the young woman shook her head as she shifted her feet in place. "I have no need for things like that. I only buy what is needed."

How could the woman treat herself so poorly? Sansa couldn't fathom why she wouldn't care to dress herself up and look beautiful if she wanted. How could she walk around, dressed in that same black garb, without care? It was hard to believe that there were women out there that didn't care about their appearance. Then again, it wasn't all too shocking after growing up with Arya. She was the same. The girl rather wore breeches than dresses, which made her older sister shudder.

"When will you be able to visit again? Hopefully in time to meet Prince Joffrey, right?" Unsure of why Sansa wanted her to meet him, she gave her a slight shrug. She could not give the girl any promises for she was never sure just how busy the days will be, probably more so with the arrival of the King and the guests that would come to see him. Sansa understood and didn't fault her despite how much she wanted to prove to the healer that Prince Joffrey was all Sansa dreamed him to be.

"Oh, and one thing before I go," Amara reached into her right sleeve with her left hand and pulled out what looked to be a freshly new book. "Give this to Lady Arya for me."

"What is it?" Sansa inspected it, daring to open it to read its contents but decided to push her nosiness aside.

"As you know your sister is interested in a few things of Yi Ti. I promised her to tell her some things, but due to me being busy I had found more time to write it then come teach her instead." Amara explained, "Nothing you'd be interested in knowing though, it is mainly about archery and such."

Sansa's face showed her lack of interest, a slight frown of disappointment in her features. "You never tell me if there's anything kind of Yi Ti, like what the noblewomen are like."

She meant to say, Amara never told her of the feminine royalty of Yi Ti. Amara could read between the lines and even found herself chuckling at how obvious she was, "It varies between the realm." Amara said, "Beauty is the main purpose of a woman's life in Yi Ti and she ruled the home, especially when you are highborn. It's not something worth bragging about since bound feet was still a thing since I was last there."

"Bound feet?" Amara nearly cringed at the memory, thinking of the painful ordeal of the pinching shoes and tight wrappings she had to wear to keep her feet small.

"I'll tell you more another time." Seeing the girl's smile made her feel easier about ending the conversation. "Until then, enjoy your crown. The flowers won't last long… " Her hand reached down the ends of her hair, already seeing half of a stem of one of the Calla flowers broken off. "See? Flowers are very sensitive beings."

"I'll try to be careful of it." The young girl promised, her eyes looking up to try to see the crown above her. "Take care, Amara. I hope you come back soon."

With a nod, they bid their goodbyes and Amara turned to make her leave out of Winterfell. In the middle of her walk, she did dare look to see if Jon was around somewhere but hadn't caught a glimpse of him. What could he be up to today? Maybe he was helping around in preparation of the King's arrival? Possibly so. And what of Robb? She was sure he didn't have work to do but she hadn't seen much of him either. Maybe it was a good thing she hadn't seen them because she was sure they would've convinced her to stay had they seen her.

As she walked to Wintertown, she was grateful for the silence but annoyed about the wind. It made her clutch at her furs, bringing them closer for warmth since the breeze hadn't warmed or let up by a fraction. It made her feet move faster, hoping that she moved in a pace that took her where she needed to go more quickly. She wanted to be inside of her home, by a fire, but she knew the place she had to go to was the brothel, but home was not comfortably a place she could spend an hour or so in. Ros was very much adamant on having that oil Amara let her have before, the one that smelled of wintergreen and white flowers. It made your skin cold like a sharp intake at first but then flooded you with the kind of warmth that was pleasing. Not only did it smell great but it had other medicinal properties as well. Of course, Ros didn't want the other girls to have it and so she always made sure that she received it in a conspicuous way. Never the one to enjoy competition, Amara couldn't understand why Ros always felt the need to be a step ahead. She was already gorgeous and her personality was nothing short of alluring.

At her home, she found that the place was just as cold as outside. It wasn't a large one, but big enough for Austin and herself to have their separate rooms. The fireplace did not have a lick of a flame for her paranoia always made her make sure that the house wouldn't be burned to ashes whenever she was away. She also warned Austin to be careful with it, always fearing he'd hurt himself. Even now, she did somewhat hope that she'd see the boy's face as soon as she came home. He was still in school however, and she just wasn't used to going back home in an empty house anymore. Austin either stayed at home while she was in the clinic or came to the clinic to come back home with her. It became the norm; a perfect routine. Not letting her silly worries best her, she grabbed what she needed and made her way to the infamous whorehouse of Wintertown: The Woolly Cat.

Upon her arrival, the place was already full with customers and loiters alike. Plenty of men who could not afford the service of one of the girls would stay around and drink, enjoying conversation and staring instead. Why would a person do that? Amara had no idea, but some men felt if they couldn't have it then they could at least stare if they were kind enough to not take a woman by force. It hadn't surprised her to see Ros, sitting on a man's lap with her lips spread in a smile and a pleasant laughter escaping her. Ros enjoyed attention, lots of it, and it made her, oddly enough, much more radiant. She was what people would call a social butterfly if you wanted to word it correctly.

Unsure of what to do, to either grab her attention or merely wait for her to notice her, Amara stood with her eyes cautiously looking around. Plenty of times she had to remind others she was neither a sally or a customer but people didn't really care what you said for your presence here made them automatically assume. It had gotten to a point where she just didn't bother giving an explanation anymore and received odd looks because of it. Either way, she never cared what people thought of her.

"Amara!" The voice made her smile some, her head shyly looking to the floor as she heard quick steps come towards her. Her hands were immediately grabbed, her eyes finally looking up to see Ros' blue ones staring at her with a smile. "I've been waiting all day for you. I was so, so lonely~""

Skeptical, her brow hitched. "Really?" Peering over the girl's shoulder and inclining her head towards the men she was just with, her eyes slowly shifted to look back at her friend. "You didn't look so lonely to me."

"That's work." Ros immediately verbally pushed the men aside as if they held no meaning, "But you, my friend, are my play~"

With a snort, she couldn't help but let a smile grace her face much more genuinely this time. No matter what, Ros made her smile in even the most impossible situations. "Now did you bring me what I've been begging for these past few days?"

Nodding, she watched Ros grin happily as she pulled her over towards the back to the more private sitting areas. After taking their seats, Amara conspicuously slid the bottle over until Ros' hands covered it completely from sight to place it in her corset with her eyes searching for any prying eyes. "Did you come from seeing Jon?" She asked, watching Amara go rigid as a coy smile played about on her lips. "What? I'm _just_ asking."

"No, I did not." Keeping a straight face, she looked around in hopes that none of the other women or men had heard what she said. "Why would I need to see him?" Remaining in her calm disposition, she watched as Ros seemed to take her words with a grain of salt. It was obvious when Ros didn't believe you, she had this look about her face that seemed so downright mischievous.

"O'please," the girl waved her hand, "spare me that. You get so starry-eyed when you speak of him. You're besotted with the boy, no need to lie. We are friends, remember?"

A wave of heat began to rise to her face, her mind in a debacle if she had been so obvious about these damning feelings. Amara was well aware that she purely liked Jon, but she did not love him. Besotted? Hadn't she been that way before? Infatuated because she had no other choice, but her feelings now were because she was free. So no, she couldn't say it wasn't the same and she had hoped it really wasn't her mind merely thinking this. Maybe talking to this with Ros was a good thing? No, no. It wasn't. She'd be too vulnerable and susceptible to the teasing season Ros would prance through. "I am not!" Her words came out a little fierce but the volume wasn't loud, which she was grateful for.

Not taking offense by the narrowing of Amara's eyes or the bite in her bark, Ros kept her grin and decided to let this ease for a bit. Provoking was what Ros did best but because she cared for Amara ( and mocking her was too easy now when it came to Jon ). She would leave it alone until she found a better opening. "Alright," Her voice softened, "I'll leave you be about it, _for now_." Her eyes then looked around, hoping to see a ray of sunshine in form of a small boy around. "Where's my favorite man?"

"Still in school." Relieved, she replied much more lightheartedly. "He'll be upset to know I'm here without him. You know he's in love with you, don't you? And even plans to marry you when he is of age. At least, that's what he told me." Still remembering that declaration the boy gave, her hands rested in her lap, folded neatly as her hair brushed against her face while she lowered her head.

With eyes lit up in surprise, Ros revealed her dimple with her smile. "Is that so? I never imagined being someone's wife, but if it is Austin, I'll make an exception."

"He'll be too young for you." Not buying it, Amara shifted a bit in her seat with lips pursed. "But I'm not strong enough to tell him that you don't seem content with married life."

"It's so boring!" Ros shrugged, "And I'd rather have my own fun than have a man taking care of me and reminding me what I was whenever he's angry with me. At least I can look a man in the eye now and say: "Yes, I am a whore and _you_ paid for _my_ services." If I were a wife, I'd have to act as if I never was and be ashamed if it is ever brought to my attention. I like who I am and I will never be ashamed of myself neither."

It was the truth. A very harsh one but the truth nonetheless, and Amara couldn't help but nod in bitter agreement. Once you were a sally, you would always be considered one no matter if you married a highborn or a commoner. It followed you and people would never let you live it down, but there was something amazing in Ros though. She accepted what she was without shame. Truth be told, Amara couldn't understand why Ros liked her job in the first place but she never questioned it.

After all, what fun was there to be had in pleasing men of varying personalities and sizes and having such personal space invaded continuously? And then these men ( and even women ) felt they could say whatever they wanted or hurt you because they spent coin on you. How could anyone find fun in such a job? It was worse enough she dealt with several personalities as a healer, she couldn't imagine ever being a sally by force let alone by choice.

"Although I'm sure Austin will be a lovely husband and I envy his future wife, I'm no good for him." There was a sense of yearning in her words, which made Amara frown upon realization. Maybe in the past Ros had hopes to marry and settle down, but could not find the one she trusted or found worthy of such a life with. That sounded completely strange though due to how beautiful and sweet Ros was. How could she of all people not find a person just right for her? Amara reached over to give the girl's hand a sympathetic pat. "Don't baby me, Amara." With a kittenish tone, she provided her signature mischievous grin that went from ear to ear. "You already tease me enough by not coming to bed with me for _girlish_ fun."

With a roll of her eyes, her ears were filled by the sweet laughter of the redhead. There were plenty of times Ros wanted their friendship to go further than just talks and hugs, but Amara was not willing. Amara never laid with a man before and she hadn't thought of lying with a woman either. Physical pleasure never skimmed across her mind and she was sure it would not make her a fool like she had seen men and women become for it. "But if I were a _handsome_ bastard, I'm sure you wouldn't deny me~"

With a groan, the healer closed her eyes and laid her head down briefly on the table top to keep her face from view. After a few minutes, she lifted her head so that her eyes could look up at her friend. "That is not true, Ros."

"You like the poor man and you'd deny him if he asked too? What a cruel girl you are." Although it was just teasing, Amara couldn't help but feel embarrassed by the subject. Maybe this was how Jon felt whenever Robb or Theon teased him about his virginity. It was a funny thing to have a glimpse of what it was like to be in his boots over something so trivial.

"Jon wouldn't ask me that." She replied haughtily, thinking she knew Jon well enough to know that he would never say something like that. "He is my friend."

"A friend you like and that I'm sure you had fantasies about." Gathering Amara's hands in hers, Ros eyes crinkled as she leaned forward. "Tell me, I always tried to imagine how he'd look beneath those Stark leathers."

"I haven't once thought of it or let alone seen him without a shirt." Not that she thought about it, of course. She hadn't and what she said was the simple truth. Amara, back in Yi Ti, had seen many men without tunics and the like since they usually trained in their trousers alone due to the tropical waves of heat they were used to. Not once had she thought anything of it though, it was something she was purely accustomed to. When she thought of Jon being outside, training without a shirt, she merely thought it impractical. It was far too cold and he wasn't as reckless to have his flesh cut during training with a sword.

With a defeated sigh, Ros leaned back and let go of Amara's hands. "You're so prude. You're far too young to be so prudent about these things; _live_ a little, have _fun_."

"I do have fun!" A bit defensive, she curled and uncurled her fists as she stared down at the table. "Just not in the ways _you_ do."

"Which makes you a prude, love." Ros shook her head, resting her cheek against her palm as her eyes carefully studied the healer. No matter how much Ros cared for her, she could never convince Amara to fully leave her shell. The young woman was too modest yet at times loose in her playful manners. She was very proud and independent yet she was deeply wounded and needed someone to look out for her. How long could she, only a girl of seven and ten, continue to act as if she was living truly to herself? Parts of the Amara was missing and sharp, and she just wouldn't let anyone too close. Not in fear for them to hurt themselves but in fear of giving her more hurt in the process.

No matter, Ros knew she could be the one to take care of her. Amara won't let her right now, but she'll work her way and maybe Jon could help too. Austin was already the only attachment that girl so fiercely loved and openly acknowledged. "You know, Amara, there's more to life than Austin and the clinic."

Confused, her eyes looked up to Ros' in question. "What do you mean?"

"I meant to say that you can't keep stalling your life. Don't let Austin and the clinic be all that there is." Curling the ends of her already curly, red hair, she continued with her elucidation. "Austin will soon grow to be a man and will no longer need you and the clinic will be all that you have. Do you mean to tell me that you do not wish to love or leave? You'll stay in Wintertown forever and alone with your eyes stuck on a man you cannot fully have?"

Startled at the sudden interrogation, Amara found herself wanting to reel away from the topic. Her eyes couldn't meet Ros', simply closing for a second before finding themselves staring down at her lap rather absently. "I've lived a life I'm not at all happy with." It wasn't her intention to have her voice low, making it hard to hear and for Ros to lean in to catch what she said. "But I'm lucky to be alive and I'll feel luckier if there's a time where I can live long enough to call this life I live boring. For now, let me be happy being Austin's mother and taking care of the ailing. This is what I chose, so I will see it through."

With a sigh, the red-haired woman crinkled her nose. "You are _so_ difficult." She murmured, "But I suppose that's what I like about you. You make things way harder than it should be." With no argument nor further question, Ros let a wave of silence linger between them.

"Thank you, Ros, for worrying about me." Upon knowing Ros was somewhat irritated by her lack of changes, she was glad that Ros still tried. It was assuring to know that no matter what decision either one of them made, it hadn't affected their friendship. _'Truthfully, Ros, the Lion of Night is telling me that there will be a price I have to pay. I must live without taking much more, I'll lead a life atoning for all the things I've done.'_ Swallowing her thoughts as if it were a bitter medicine, she hoped she was right.

"Well, this is a odd one."

In the oddest way, the voice had a drawing effect. It made you want to listen and at the same time, it stood out among the noise; which was hard since the brothel was filled with drunken ( and often loud ) chinwags and women moaning out of forced and sometimes actual pleasure. It was enough to make both Amara and Ros turn to look only to find that their answer was lower than they sought. Amara's eyes blinked twice out of incertitude before slowly traveling down to catch the full sight of a man half-sized. The appearance did not bring shock, it instead made her more curious. Never could she recall seeing a dwarf in Wintertown and if there was one or more, she must've overlooked them.

Ros' eyes had widened for only a split second as her eyes stayed glued to him. She watched as he casually pulled back a chair and got himself seated with a little but nothing dramatic bit of struggle. Once he was upright, hands on the table, his eyes glanced between them both before keeping themselves fixated on the healer. "When I think of northern girls and all of what they say about them," He began to say, eyes twinkling with interest, "I surely don't come to think of a girl that looks like you." Amara, with no awareness of what was said of "Northern girls", had become nonplussed with hopes that Ros could fill her in.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if she just going to be left in a world of confusion for Ros was too interested, too entertained, by this man. Was it out of duty of her job or was Ros actually captivated by this man they had no idea was named? Deciding to speak in hopes to clear his obvious questions, she gave her head a slight tilt with her face etched in an expression of curiosity attached with fragments of confusion. "I think you are well aware that I am indeed not a northern girl." She replied with a neutral voice as he ordered himself some wine in spite of the timing of the day.

With a goblet that looked entirely opulent, there was the sound of wine being poured along with his soft 'ahhh'. The question was lingering on her tongue, inching close to be said than to be kept within. Why was he being treated so highly? Who was he? His clothes did look like they were made from fine material. Was he a nobleman of the sort? Whoever he was, he had some importance because she could definitely feel eyes at their table and her ears could not pick up on what was said in the whispers. "You wish to bed my friend here?" Her mind became blank, her head whipped towards her redhead friend in disbelief. "She's not a sally, I'm afraid, but I will be _more_ than enough."

Was that… seduction? Miffed by how she was thrown under the wagon for business, her brows fought not to knit together and she definitely fought harder not to glare. Her lips just thinned and her eyes dared to look at anything that wasn't them. It felt stupid to be annoyed by this for this was Ros' place of work and so she shouldn't interfere or stay longer than necessary.

The man ahhed again but not in a surprised way that was hinted before. It seemed as if he knew or at least, she just confirmed his thoughts. With another gulp of the red, alcoholic drink, he wiped his mouth clean with a smooth stroke of the back of his hand. "And here I thought I could have you both." His disappointment wasn't great and it left Amara uneasy. _Who_ was this man? She had to ask herself again and again until she got a smidgen of a clue. "Since I can only have one, which I'm not complaining about, I'll let you say your goodbyes. I hope they won't take too long, I'm usually patient but time is of the essence I'm afraid."

Adamant, wasn't he? Ros was beautiful, no doubt. She was also the most popular girl in the brothel at that, and so she shouldn't have been surprised. Still a little vexed at how this went about, Amara pushed her chair back to hear it screech as the bottom end of the legs scraped across the wooden floor. "Are you content with leaving me, Amara?" Ros asked, blue eyes up and staring since the healer stood.

Unable to keep her irritation, she gave an honest a reply. "Whether I do or don't doesn't matter." Her eyes briefly glanced at the dwarf, "But I know I must. What I came here for has been accomplished," Her eyes shifted back to Ros, "has it not?"

"Most definitely." With a wink, the healer merely shook her head and found herself able to give a minuscule smile.

"Goodbye, sir. Maybe next time I'll learn your name."

There was a glint of amusement, a slight tug of his lips. Did this woman really not know who he was? A part of him gave an excuse for her because it was plainly obvious that this girl wasn't Westerosi and another part of him believed that this girl might've seen many dwarfs in her lifetime. With that idea, just who would he be to her? Just another who crossed her path no less. Back to her origin, he easily concluded that this girl had to have been from the Jade sea. In his lifetime, he had seen many of whores and non-whores alike with those shape eyes and distinctive facial features. The only strange thing that really sat out upon the rest was the strong color of her eyes.

He suspected that may she was not completely of the Jade sea. A parent of hers had to have made her inherit those eyes of hers. In fact, there was something strongly Rhoynar about her and that made her twice as intriguing to him. He could never say he bedded a woman of Rhoyne descent. Even as she left the room with such an odd presence about her, he watched until there was nothing to see of her before flicking his eyes to Ros with a look of lasciviousness and anticipation.

 **:::**

"I don't want to wear this."

Childish as it might've made her sound, she said it anyway. The iron weight of her stubbornness was so clearly etched in her features. Lady Catelyn wasn't one to accept refusal, especially over things like this. Even as her eyes were watching the healer, who held the dress up to her form and was cringing at the grey color. Black was always Amara's color and she didn't want to give it up again like she had gave it up for red the last time and most certainly not now for grey. Black was the color she liked most. It was the color that was most fitting of her.

"You _will_ wear this." Her words were as hard as stone and there was no changing her mind. Amara dared not to pout even though a great part of her wanted to. Instead, she looked down at the dress with the mighty disdain in her eyes before looking at the bright eyes of the Stark woman. "You decided to join us upon my request and Austin's plea." She reminded her—more like scolded her. Like a mother at times, Lady Catelyn had no qualms of putting you in your place or for reminding you of what you agreed to and how you'd be doing a great disservice to yourself and others if you went back on your word. "Sansa expects you there and Arya does too. Now get on with it and put on the dress."

If you had been there to bear witness of them both, you might've thought they were mother and child. As much as Amara missed her mother greatly and admired as well as respected Lady Catelyn, she was not fond of the idea of being told what to do after being independent for so long. "Aye." Her voice was entirely low, but the older woman heard her well enough. With a smirk of victory, she gave a firm nod before walking out the room to give Amara, for once, some privacy to change.

She had let the stray hairs in front of her face be blown by the huff of air from the short-lived raspberry she blew. Her eyes dared to look at the mirror to study if the dress complimented her as Lady Catelyn said it would. It wasn't extravagant, she would gladly say it was plain, but it would fit close to the body to give sight of your curves if you had any. The sleeves were long too but that may have been because of the chill that worsened during the moon's domain. Had it been warmer, she was sure there'd be no sleeves.

After blusters and a much needed bath, she eased herself into the dressed and laced it up herself. Her hair was a bit damp, giving it that wavy look, but that opted her to try a new hairstyle. She had brushed it back, showing more of her face, which made her feel insecure right away. With her usual style, it kind of made her hair like a curtain, willing to hide her whenever she gave the right movements of her head. Now, with this, you could see the true oval shape of her face and her lashes looked quite a sight of their own too now; thick, superlative and finely black that surrounded almond shaped eyes of dark blue irises. Her eyes already made her stand out and now if she showed them this much? She was sure the attention would heighten and it made her want to hide.

 _'You can't hide forever.'_

Her mind was still in shambles from earlier, but it was right with that thought. After being haunted by a ghost of someone who still holds life, it did surprisingly wanted to rid her of timorous showers that rained over her. Why was it that when she was truly by herself that she begun to realize just how much her pride—or the remnants of the confidence she had when she was younger—was nothing like it was before? Her pride was false now, broken shards of who she once was in desperate search to add them to who she wanted to be. Who she claimed to be now.

These thoughts had nothing to do with the King nor his family and it had nothing to do with the Starks either. It had nothing to do with anyone, but the fact that she was still in hiding and pretending. Hiding from the Amara she once knew in efforts to create a new one; a self that she liked. How many times could she lie to herself that she was different and that her life was beginning anew? How could she begin anew with a past that haunts her and her inability to find the beauty of truly moving forward? This dress wasn't like her and it wasn't she was deserving of wearing it. This role as a healer, she wasn't deserving of it. Austin, that sweet boy, was deserving of someone better than her.

All because she was alone with flickering candles making shadows dance on the walls, did she deconstruct herself. All in efforts to allow her to rebuild herself all over again with childish hope. With lies.

Alone.

She deserved to be alone.

Part of her, white and bright with fragile purity, made her stand on her feet after sinking in those thoughts. It made her leave the agony of the loneliness and self-hatred that was blooming inside of her in that room. It made her hurry up and walk the halls even though she could guess that she was probably late and missed the arrival of the royal family and the Starks. Austin was possibly already in the Great Hall, having himself a grand time. He was so eager to meet the King and the Queen and also eager to meet the Princes and Princess. Possibly every commoner boy hoped to see the man they served, right? Amara didn't feel excitement about them at all really. What was a king or queen to her? She didn't serve them. All she was, was an immigrant healer.

Just standing before the large doors of the Great Hall made her stomach do flips, and it wasn't out of excitement either. When the doors opened for her just to feel that instant and open wave of the feast made her nauseous as well. Why did she come? She didn't want to be here, but she told Sansa she would try and accepted Lady Catelyn's offer as well as heard that Arya expected her too. And there was Austin, who she couldn't abandon just to stay inside their home and have someone bring him back. At least they were offered an apartment if they had felt unable to go home tonight, but she didn't want to stay in Winterfell and overstep any boundaries. The Starks gave her too much hospitality at times.

It was loud, piercingly so, and made her wince whenever a man's laughter was a sound higher than the rest. Giggling women, flirting with whomever would allow it, especially with King Robert. How could the barmaids openly disrespect their Queen? _"She is undeserving of your pity."_ Catelyn's words chimed like bells in her ears and she found her pity moving in the way the Stark woman would want it; dispersing into nothingness.

A cup was suddenly placed in front of her, sort of like an offering gesture. Her eyes didn't want to look up from the floor, but they did to see that it was a barmaid trying to issue her a drink. "Summerwine?" The woman asked, her voice singsong-like despite how forced her smile was. Amara didn't take offense nor blame her for it was a busy night, who could possibly be happy working with so many people and such a ruckus?

Without a second of hesitation, Amara took the cup and had no idea as to why she did. Wine wasn't something she was fond of drinking, she hated the way it liberated one's body from the confines of your mind. It made you lose control of yourself and Amara always was in desperate need to keep herself controlled. The reins she had over herself were so tight and to let herself lose grip, and all because of wine? How dangerous it could be. It could make you behave in such a manner that was unlike yourself and your mind would be too clouded to stop you, and that was truly frightening. Still she had wanted something to calm her fraying nerves, even if it was just by a little bit. Tea would've been a much better solution but there was no need for it in a feast for a king and his men.

Her first sip made her squint and purse her lips. It wasn't because the drink was unpleasant for she liked the sweetness and overwhelming taste of fruit of the ripe grapes that were crushed to make it. Her tastebuds were tingling but her throat and belly had felt unusually ( and almost uncomfortably ) warm after she swallowed. That was another reason why she didn't like wine, it was that burning heat that came before it did a number on you.

The smell of this wine mixed with the strong smells of roasted meat, baked bread, and the smoke of cooking all did not combine well. Then there was to take account of the different odors from the people that mixed with one another's since they were in such close quarters. The combination of scents made her keep her squint and also made her frown, which must've made her look completely unapproachable now. It wasn't that she wanted someone to come talk to her but if they had wanted to, she was sure they backed away now.

Laughter, mixed conversations, and a singer all at once? Along with the strong smells and this summerwine, she was surprised she hadn't immediately gotten a headache. The sudden sound of a harp was lulling to her though, making Amara's cooling nerves quicken the process with the strength of the wine. Her shoulders slumped some, muscles relaxing, as her hands kept themselves wrapped around the cup and her ears keened into the lyrics as much as they could. You could barely hear the singer but it was worth it when you could. He had a nice voice.

It was until a familiar laugh amidst the feast had taken her attention. It made her annoyed how she could hear him out everyone in the room. It made her feel stupid and maybe Ros was right after all as much as she didn't want to admit it. Maybe she was besotted and that her advice should've been for herself and not for Sansa. Her eyes searched in a frenzied way for the owner of that laugh and when she found him, Jon was sitting by the squires. It wasn't odd to her for she was sure that because he was a bastard that he was made to sit so far away from the family. Amara undoubtedly believe it was Lady Catelyn's request too. Yet he seemed unbothered and was speaking with someone to whom she had no idea who the man was. However, she watched in silence because just seeing Jon was strangely enough for her.

Her eyes wanted to look away and she wanted to inwardly prove Ros wrong. Amara couldn't do it though and just kept staring, watching Jon's face keep changing, oddly enough. His expression had morphed from playful to serious in a matter of seconds, and she thought she had seen him straighten his posture to make him appear much more manlier and tall. What was he trying to do? She wondered. It took everything in her to bite back a laugh since laughter came much too easily because of the wine. Bad enough that she was already standing here all by her lonesome, cup of wine in hand, and tickled by what people would virtually think is nothing. The sight of her must've been sad, but she hadn't mind.

Would it be so bad? To be bold that is. If she had walked up and spoke to him, would that have been wrong? The thought process of whether it was right or wrong of her hadn't mattered since her feet were already moving on their own. As she inched closer, she couldn't help but to think what she would say. _'They cut your hair and shaved your face? My, you look so much like a little boy, Jon.'_ He would've gave her quite the reaction if she said this thought aloud, wouldn't he? There was truth in that thought though, he looked so young now and much less manlier than he had with what little of a beard he had. Amara couldn't help but to find him much more handsome this way and found herself more flustered than she would've liked. Of course, she would never tell him that part. That was something she tucked away in herself, holding onto the memory and the thoughts she had along with it.

"I will never father a bastard!" His words were loud, not loud enough to shake the whole feast, but loud enough that anyone at the table he sat at or close as she had been could hear. "Never!"

All the eyes that belonged to the men at that table were on Jon and never left him either as they were sitting silent now. Amara was shocked since the outburst was unlike him and it had made her fiercely curious of what that man might've said to him. Was it because of the wine that she wanted to confront that man or had it been the sight of the moonless eyes of Jon's that seemed shaky with sadness? Maybe it was both. Didn't she know better and her place?

He was on his feet now, getting himself ready to leave. Jon moved as if he was desperate on getting far away and Amara couldn't blame him. His cheeks were red, but from what? Wine or embarrassment? She hadn't known.

No matter how much his body was trying to warn him he had too much to drink, he whirled from the man he was speaking to after asking to be excused. Despite knowing what he wanted to do and where he wanted his go, he was too drunk to get his feet right and his body disobeyed him and had him swaying. As soon as he spun on his heels, he stumbled right into a barmaid and a cup of wine crashed to the floor. Laughter, so much of it had been done, and Jon felt his face hot and his eyes ready to let tears pour.

His head was hazy, rewinding the scene that just happened and hearing his words echo over and over. His feet moved so messily and he was dipping forward now, almost ready to fall until he was caught; saved. His nose couldn't smell the roasted meat, the baked bread nor the wines that filled the room, but that dewy, Summer rose and that hint of Vanilla bean that he had remembered and savored. He wanted to shrink or disappear now because now he had ruined the look of himself in front of the one person he hadn't wanted to see him in such a state. It was a good thing he was half-blinded by his tears, he didn't want to see her face right now.

Not her. Never her. Not in front of these men, not in the Great Hall during a feast, but not especially in front of Amara did he want to show how upset he was. Tears were prickling at his eyes still and now sliding down to his burning cheeks, he wanted to blame it all for his stupidity for drinking so much. He was drunk, drunk enough for speaking like he had no right to. Speaking so dumbly in front of the very woman he had not wanted to let see him less than how he wanted her to see him. And there she was, helping him do what he could properly do himself but unable to because he was drunk. Part of him didn't mind for this one second to allow her to help him, but it was the laughter of the men that sounded like it came from every which way that woke him out of that.

Amara's hand grabbed at his arm and led him out the doors. Ghost, a growing little pup he was, followed behind them as Amara led him out into the yard, straight into the night. It was eerily quiet and so empty, which was he was somewhat grateful for because he didn't want anyone else to see him. His eyes, blinking away more silly tears, found a lone sentry on the inner wall, alone and pulling at his cloak to keep him warm from the chilling cold. As bored and as miserable as that sentry looked, Jon would've rather been in his shoes than a laughing stock and embarrassing himself in front of Amara. Even now, he so desperately wanted to wipe the stains of tears away before she could catch sight of them.

His throat was burning. Was it out frustration or out of the readiness to cry he had faced? Either thought only served to make him much more angrier at himself. The healer hadn't looked back or said a thing, but kept giving them distance from the festivities even though the music and cheers and laughter hadn't died the farther they moved. He had enough time to wipe away the stains with the sleeves of his shirt with his freehand just right before Amara stopped her leading and turned to face him.

It was obvious what she wanted to ask, at least to him it was. She wanted to ask him if he was alright, but he wasn't sure if it was out of pity or empathy how she would say the words. Surprisingly, she gave him a smile instead and brushed any traces of tears from the corners of his eye and his cheeks with a quick swipe of her thumbs. For a moment, he felt the gentleness of the pads of her fingers yet he noticed her hands were not completely resembling of a noblewoman's. They were rough yet warm, calloused in some ways, but he knew it was because Amara was a working woman and took care of herself now. Jon thought that her hands should've been smooth, she deserved a better life where servants performed her every need.

It still infuriated him that he shed tears over something so stupid. Not only that, Amara caught sight of them and felt the need to wipe them away as if he were a child; as if he were Austin. Men did not cry, babes do, and he was feeling every bit of a baby right now. "Who told you to drink?" Now that, he hadn't expected her to say. His eyes widened some under her playful questioning, "Summerwine and more than one cup at that? You thought you could handle such wine?"

His lips parted to protest, to say that he could handle wine and as many cups given too, but then he'd look like a liar. He couldn't walk a straight line and he said something personal and stupid at that table of squires and in front of his uncle Benjen. He couldn't handle more than one cup of Summerwine because look at all it did right then. "I'm an idiot." The words just slipped but they were painfully true. It was how he felt anyway and she was already aware of that since she seen him in the act.

"Says who?" Her eyes were staring up at him and he found that she did not pity him like he almost thought she would.

"Says I." Jon couldn't keep the eye contact and so he opted to look at the ground, "I know you think it too but you won't say it."

Her heart ached to see him like this. Her means of comfort was to distract him but it hadn't been worked completely. "I don't think you're an idiot." Amara said truthfully.

"And why not?" Brows furrowed, his eyes kept searching for something. "I was practically a jester back there, just making a complete fool of myself. I can't even hold my drink and I'm practically a man grown." There was spice to his words but not towards her, but at himself. He was hard on himself, always was, and she knew that easing him out of that wouldn't be quick. Jon never forgave himself easily, not ever, she noted.

With a snort, she crinkled her nose quickly as her eyes averted from him. "Everyone makes a fool of themselves when drunk, Jon. Did you see the King?" Her eyes shifted back to look at him, seeing a hint of a smile as he thought back about the large, round, and bearded King of Westeros. That man was dancing and singing knowing that Gods well he couldn't do either. He was also openly flirting with anything that had tits and legs in front of his own Queen. That man didn't care how anyone saw him.

"I guess that's true." He wasn't completely there yet, but he almost was and that was enough for her.

"Did you see me? I was squinting like I ate a bowl of sour grapes. I'm not a good drinker either." Now he wished he did see her then. If he had looked for her, like he fleeting thought to, he wouldn't have acted so stupidly. The embarrassment was still there but thinking of Amara's expression had made him snort some, pushing back the memory if only just for a minute.

"Besides, who will remember? Everyone's getting drunk tonight and if you're lucky, you won't remember any of it either." That did bring more comfort than he thought. He nodded slowly, hoping that by tomorrow, nobody remember what he said or done. Not even himself.

His eyes shined with hope now, "You think, so?"

"Yes." She said to him, "But is it okay if I remember?"

Confusion took hold of his face, "Why would you want to remember?"

"Because I came to your rescue." It was silly, but she did feel a swell a pride for that. "You saved me before and so now I saved you." It was odd to not be able to tuck her hair behind her ear for it was already brushed back and it also felt odd to not play with the ends of them. Oh how she wanted to hide her face in her hair right now. "What you've done for me was far greater, but I gave back in some way."

Even after these months, Amara still felt indebted to him for killing that bandit commander. It was true, it wasn't the same, for he saved her life but she only saved his face. Either way, he never thought Amara would still think of that and want to repay him, but part of him couldn't help but wonder if that meant if he had never saved her would things been different? If someone else saved her, Robb for instance, would she not felt the need to save his pride like she did tonight? Jon wouldn't question it although he wanted to. He had to force himself to be grateful for this than to ask would it had been any different under another circumstance.

"That wasn't a debt to be repaid." Jon was aware that no matter if he said that or not, Amara was bent on doing what she wanted.

"I know but I wanted to." She shrugged, "Even if you hadn't saved me, I would've saved you anyway."

Lips parted in shock, his eyes broadened as they gawked at her in disbelief. So, his rescuing had nothing to do with it? Amara would've did this regardless? He was glad. Not even a clip of what happened minutes ago came to mind anymore, he was too happy to let something like that ruin his mood.

"Boy." The voice startled them. Amara jumped slightly, Jon smirking knowing that the woman scared easily for she was not fond of surprises. He slowly turned, Amara peering up to gaze at the voice that called them. "You again?" said the man, surprised to see Amara's face once more and in Winterfell no less.

How did neither of them notice that he was sitting on the ledge that was above the door of the Great Hall? Maybe they dismissed him as a gargoyle, which sounded wrong. The dwarf was looking down at them, grin on his lips, and without much care. "Aye, it is me again." Amara answered, the dark-haired Stark looking at them both, visibly perplexed.

Tyrion's eyes then felt need to look away from them and at Ghost, "Is that animal a wolf?"

"A direwolf." Jon corrected. "His name is Ghost." Still wondering how the two known one another, he decided to ask another question that plagued him. "What are you doing up there? Why aren't you at the feast?"

"Too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine." He told him. "I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother. Might I have a closer look at your wolf?"

Amara wanted to laugh, recalling the sight of Jaime Lannister much earlier today. He was a good-looking knight and a clear vision of a male replica of Queen Cersei, but to see him covered in yuck and dealing with a vomiting Tyrion had been an hilarious image in her mind. "Can you climb down or shall I bring a ladder?"

The funny image was ruined, her eyes looking to Jon as she was bit surprised to see him so nice to Tyrion. Then again, why wouldn't he? She was sure Tyrion had done nothing to warrant hostility from him. "I am going to go." She said, eyes looking down.

"What for?" Jon turned to face her, wondering why she'd leave him now.

Her answer was locked in her throat, her eyes glued to Tyrion as he pushed himself off the ledge and right into the open air. Jon had turned to catch it too, gasping as they both watched in shocked awe as the small man spun around in a tight, little ball and landed squarely on his hands before vaulting backward on his stunted legs. Even the direwolf backed away out of uncertainty.

As he dusted himself off and gave out a laugh. He said, "I believe I've frightened your wolf. My apologies."

"He's not scared," Jon argued, kneeling down and calling out to his wolf. "Ghost, come here. Come on. That's it."

Amara watched the wolf pup walking close, nuzzling at Jon's face while also keeping a wary eye on the Lannister. When the small hand of Tyrion reached out to give the wolf a pet on his head, Ghost had drew himself back and bared out his sharp, little fangs in a quiet yet dangerous snarl. "Shy, isn't he?" Out of observation or humor, Amara wasn't sure which one Tyrion said that out of.

"Sit, Ghost." The command was harsh, but Ghost listened as if it all the authority in the world was in Jon's voice. "That's it. Keep still." His dark eyes left the wolf and looked to Tyrion, "You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him."

"I see." Was Tyrion reply. He ruffled the snow-white fur between Ghost's ears and said, "Nice."

"If I wasn't here, he'd tear out your throat." Amara's eyes gave Jon an admonishing stare, to which he looked at her to say _"What? It's true."_ It really wasn't though, at least not yet.

"If that is the case then you had best stay close." His eyes then looked at Amara, gazing up at her as she returned her attention back to him in time to meet his eyes. "She knows who I am, don't you?"

"You are Tyrion Lannister. I didn't know before but I am well aware now. I apologize for not knowing you earlier."

"I knew that." Jon mumbled, now able to get the answer he had been thinking a few minutes ago but was stopped by Tyrion's question.

"You're Ned Stark's bastard, aren't you?" Amara became stiff, hands interlocked and eyes focused on Jon. She had been unable to read him, watching his lips pressed together in a thin line and saying not one word. "Did I offend you?" He inquired. "Sorry. Dwarfs don't have to be tactful. Generations of capering fools in motley have won me the right to dress badly and say any damn thing that comes into my head." For some reason, unbeknownst to them, he grinned. "You are the bastard, though."

Whether it was just to answer him or he felt the need, Jon admitted it. "Lord Eddard Stark is my father." How he said it was rather stiff though and made some sort of awkward tension fill the air.

Studying his face, Tyrion gave a nod. "Yes," He nodded again, "I can see it. You have more of the North in you than your brothers."

"Half brothers." He felt the need to correct him, but there was something about Tyrion's words that made Jon happy. It didn't make him feel good to be happy about it, but he was nonetheless.

"Let me give you some counsel, bastard." Disliking the dwarf's constant use of such word, Amara winced slightly but made no move to correct him. "Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you."

Wise words yet Jon did not request it or really wanted to hear them. In fact, why did Tyrion felt that he understood Jon's position is what he really wanted to ask. What gave him the right to try to understand? Tyrion was no bastard, his only consequence in life was being a dwarf. What did he truly know about anything of a bastard's life? "What do you know about being a bastard?"

"All dwarfs are bastards in their father's eyes." The reply was tongue numbing, but not for Jon.

"You are your mother's trueborn son of Lannister." The Stark insisted, sticking to his mental claim that Tyrion had no idea of his life.

There was a rather strange look in Tyrion's eyes, brow raised and a roll of his eyes. "Am I?" His shoulders shrugged, tone rather sardonic. " _Do_ tell my lord father. _My_ mother died birthing me, and he's never been sure."

Was she supposed to know this? It felt so intrusive. Amara did feel sorry for Tyrion but she knew that he wouldn't want her sympathy. "I don't even know who my mother was." Jon replied in a voice grim as Tyrion's.

"Some woman, no doubt. Most of them are." As true as it was, it was very cynical to say. The grin on the dwarf's face made it much more darker because of how rueful it was. "Remember this, boy. All dwarfs may be bastards, yet not all bastards need be dwarfs."

With nothing more to say, Tyrion had turned and ambled his way back into the Great Hall, whistling a rather unfamiliar but pleasing tune. When his hands gripped to open the door and swung it open, the light from within the room had made his shadow much more prominent and clear across the yard. For a moment, in the eyes of Jon and Amara, his shadow had made him tall. As tall as a king.

And then there was nothing.

Quietness and the dark of the empty yard of Winterfell.

Just the two of them.

"How did you know Lord Tyrion?" Jon queried, turning himself to look at her as she looked at the door of the Great Hall, still thinking about the conversation and advice Tyrion had just given him.

Her eyes slowly looked to him, "He was in the brothel this morning." The look on his face wasn't at all happy, but at least she spoke truth. "He, well…" Unsure of how to to present the fact that Tyrion mistaken her for a person who worked there. "He thought I was a sally."

"He _what_?" There was something interrogating in his eyes, but she knew he wasn't asking her if she had laid with him. Jon knew better than that. He was also sure Tyrion would've commented if he had too, he seemed like the type.

"It was an innocent misunderstanding." Amara defended the dwarf Lannister, "We didn't speak much and then I left and he, uh, got himself satiated with Ros as far as I know."

The rising anger calmed, doused itself by the waters of Amara's honesty and the relief that Tyrion had not laid one finger on her. "It is getting quite late and Austin needs his sleep for school." She suddenly thought, "I'm sure Lady Arya and the Young Lords, Bran and Rickon, have been sent to bed too."

His hand rose, desperately hoping to grasp a tight grip of her wrist to stop her but the courage wasn't there. "Your sisters will be disappointed I didn't stick around or speak to them, but I promise to do so tomorrow." She said, his eyes staring as she gave him a small smile. "I will see you too tomorrow, Jon."

Before she left, the words just spilled. "I've decided to go to the Wall. At least, until Father hears and gives permission."

It felt like everything had paused. There was no breeze, even the music and sounds of conversation from the Great Hall weren't there, and she had to keep still to listen if her heart was still in fact beating. Everything was quiet to her as her eyes were staring straight ahead at the large doors as if they would fill it with holes. Her back was kept facing him, her arms entirely limp at her sides, as her lips parted to release the gasp that seemed stuck.

Why? Her mind kept asking the question, starting off a whisper before becoming loud as screams. Why? Why? Why? It kept asking, hoping that an answer would immediately be said, but there was nothing but silence. Amara couldn't properly think. All she could think was the same question she asked before. Why? Why would Jon want to go to the Wall? Why would he want to go to that dreadful Castle Black where rapers and others various criminals were sent? Why did he want to take on the black? Why did he want to swear some oath and give up his rights? But most of all, why did he want to leave her? Did he not care that she would be sad and lonely?

No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't tell herself that he decided this because he didn't care. It wasn't that he didn't care how she felt, Amara knew better than that. He didn't know how much she would care, and she thank the Gods that he didn't. Now he would continue not to, for her sake.

Able to speak, in such a breathless voice, she asked the question that plagued her mind for a minute straight. "Why?" Unable was she to find herself able to turn her body to face him. Unable was she to let him see her eyes because she knew that look on her face would give her away. In such a long time, Amara found herself unable to control herself in the moment she needed that power to do it the most. It wasn't due to the wine either as she had thought it would be the one to inflict its ways on her. It was her own fault; her own natural volition.

Jon kept his eyes on her, wanting her to turn and speak to him. He braved himself to take a few steps but found that he couldn't take another. His body wouldn't let him move another inch forward, another inch towards her. He created distance between them, for her sake and for his own. Now he had to keep it, he couldn't ruin it for one time. The one time he wanted to ruin it the most. "What will I do here?" He questioned, which seemed directed more so to himself than it had to her. "I'm a bastard, not a heir. Winterfell will never be mine, so there is no real reason for me to stay. Bastards can become something in the Watch. I can do so much there."

How desperately she wanted to say: _"I don't want you to go."_ But she knew it'd be too selfish to say. She knew it was too selfish to feel, but she couldn't help it. Her lips trembled and she sunk her teeth down into her bottom lip to fight it. Her eyes were glossing, blinding her for a moment too long, because she knew that she had done something terribly wrong. Amara had cared for him enough to know that she would miss him. Miss him she would, even though he wasn't hers to miss. If she had been sure ( a little bit sober too ), she could tell herself that it was okay to miss a friend. That's what he was, wasn't he?

No matter how many times she tried to tell herself that a day would come where Jon might possibly marry or no longer be before her eyes, she didn't want to be without sight of him so soon. He was her friend. He was her friend. He was her friend. That was the mantra that she told herself and now she felt that she was breaking her own rule that protected her as long as it was able. Now that it was all for naught, she had to seek her pride for help. It was her pride now that made her eyes not let tears fall and it was her pride now that made her unable to beg for him to stay. It was her pride now that was going to let her suffer the pain of never seeing the face of Jon Snow again. Her pride now and always will be a forced to be reckoned with.

There was one more thing to do, and it was something she wanted not to. She had to learn to smile in sadness. She owed it to him to be happy for him ( or at least pretend to ) because this what was Jon wanted. There were a great many things Jon had always wanted and now that he could have this. Amara should be happy for him, proud of him even, for getting what he wanted. So, with her eyes slit-closed, her eyelashes attempting to catch the tears if they dared to slip past her defense, she swallowed hard. With a slow turn of her head, her eyes met his as she gave him that smile that she had just learnt. "I'm happy for you, Jon. You must do what you must for only you can choose how to live your life." Her voice was empty, not a hint of anything to give away how she truly felt. "It will be unusual," She admitted, "to be in Winterfell knowing you're not here."

"You say this as if our goodbyes are to be said now." Unsure what to make by the lack of care he thought he was seeing, his eyes gazed at the ground because he had no strength to see her so neutral about them being apart for what would be deemed forever. Jon almost hoped she would tell him to not go or do what women did in stories and embrace him for they would never be able to do such an act when he told his brothers, sisters, and father goodbye. He almost hoped that she would shed a tear so that he knew that she would miss him greatly. He almost hoped for a lot of things.

"They might as well be."

His body went rigid, eyes wide as she had left him there in the dark and cold night of the yard of Winterfell. There was no delay in her steps and not a second glance. All he could do was watch her open the door of the Great Hall, the light illuminating her and making her shadow big but giving way the slenderness of her form. He hadn't noticed how pretty she looked in grey or how her eyes were so much more striking due to her hair being away from her face. All the things he should've noticed when he had first saw her was now all so salient now and yet her words had him thinking this would be the last time he saw her.

With that last look she gave him, Jon had thought he'd never forget how much her eyes looked like the open sea right then. They looked wild but not wild enough to storm. A forlorn calm that would make a sailor pity the ocean and stare out until the sun peeked from a grey overcast.

Maybe her mother had been right before.

Silence could be the most powerful thing; whether it was the quietness of a room or speech stopped before it was said. In her silence, she had kept locked away a great many things, but another thing she gave storage in this silence was her cries. Her sobs were locked away in her throat, burning for their release, but Amara wouldn't give them voice. Jon was just another person she'd have to be without; she'd been without a great many of people she liked before. What was so painful about losing another? She knew loss for loss was her greatest friend.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : I realize I threw too much symbolism in that flower crown for Sansa, but I did that without even thinking about it at first. I just thought pink Magnolias and Calla lilies would look pretty on her but never did I realize how much they relate to her. Pink Magnolias represent youth, innocence, and joy. That can represent how she is until Joffrey arrives and Calla Lilies can mean the same, but they say a broken stem of one can mean that the person died before their time, which for me, means her innocence died before it should've. I'm not gonna kill her though, so don't worry about that. Lol.

Don't be mad at me though about this ending. I had to do it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

Xelia Lagan: Thank you! Haha, and I hope I didn't disappoint with this one.

Guest: Oooh, I'm glad. Fleshing her out happens kind of sporadically because I want you all to know just how much she's starting to slowly fall at the seams and then quickly get herself together. It makes unfolding her fun. I'm glad you like it. That is true, I wish I kept it secret now after I decided to go with that route in the last chapter. Since everything else is a secret, I'll surprise you in the future and the impacts will be greater now.

Birdy: ;D An update as you requested! Glad you thought the last chapter was great! Hope this one is just as great or better.

minstorai: How could she not be?! There'll be more Tyrion too. I was scared how I was going to portray Ros, but I'm glad you like it. Your review makes me wonder if I change Ros' fate, it was hanging in the air for me honestly. I always thought Tyrion introduction in the books was so good and I couldn't leave it. Acrobatic Tyrion is amazing. Thank you and I'm sorry it was painful, but it gets better.

obsidian92: Thank you!

* * *

Perhaps it was wrong, but she was doing it anyway. Avoiding Jon had felt like the right thing to do and she was going to continue on with it in order to keep herself protected. Her resolve would have surely broken if they crossed paths. It would be pointless and she would have no one to blame for her pain because the one she wanted to condemn was entirely blameless. Besides, Jon was going to leave for the Wall. Last night should've been a clear and final goodbye, seeing one another afterwards wouldn't make sense. Although the thought that he was still here, for such a limited time, made her want to be near him even more stupidly enough.

In all her efforts to clear him from her thoughts, she decided to spend her day with her favorite wolf girl; Arya. The girl was with the Septa, but she knew how much Arya loathed lessons. It would make Lady Catelyn angry but she was sure that excusing her from her lessons just this once wouldn't be so bad. It was probably a lesson on needlework with Sansa being praised from earth to the skies. The healer's lips couldn't help but pull up in a smile, imagining the irritated look on Arya's face as it happened.

After climbing up the steps, she was grateful that she had met Rickon before he ate breakfast in the Great Hall. He was the one who told her which room it was, and she asked him to promise not to tell anyone what she planned. The only reason he agreed was because he desperately wanted the loaf of raisin bread the Cook, Gage, made for her upon her meek request. It must've not been very common here, most of the dishes she known and love weren't, and it was cute to see him chomp away at it. Most people didn't like dried raisins, grapes were only good for wine to most, but he seemed content with it.

It wasn't her intention anyway, to stay the night in Winterfell, but Amara was far too tired to walk back home and Austin practically fell asleep at the table he sat. The sneaky boy got himself a few sips of Summerwine based on a silly dare with Bran and Prince Tommen. Robb had been the one to help carry him to the guest apartment they would stay in for the night. She was grateful for his help in spite of the fact Robb found the whole bit funny, which annoyed her. He always got a kick out of her anger, puzzling to her no less. What was so funny about it? Amara doubted she'd ever know. Every time she would ask him, he wouldn't give her an answer but a smile instead.

"Arya, come back here! Don't you take another step! Your lady mother will hear of this. In front of the royal princess too! You shame us all!"

Amara stood, puzzled, in front of the door and hearing the Septa's voice clean through it. Her eyes looked every which way, pressing one of her ears close to the door so that she could hear the rest of the conversation. The woman was harsh, wasn't she? How could she expect Arya to learn or even want to when she was so rude. She even dared to embarrass her in front of Princess Myrcella. Arya was better than her when she was young, Amara was much more ruthless in youth. Her mouth was like a shark's but much has changed since then.

"By your leave, my lady." Arya's voice could be heard and it sounded as if she was addressing the princess at that.

"Just where do you think you are going, Arya?" Mordane was not letting the girl off the hook, not by a longshot.

"I have to go shoe a horse." There was a hint of sweetness in Arya's mocking lie, and Amara stifled a chuckle knowing Mordane was probably infuriated. That woman already had a scary face, so imagine her glare.

The door rushed open, a small body colliding into hers. Arya looked up, almost fearful at first, but was relieved to know it was the healer there and not her mother. The young Stark girl had quickly grabbed her hand, "We have to hurry!" She said, pulling on Amara's arm as they ran down the hall and down the steps as fast as they could muster. Not once did Amara think she'd be running in the morning, especially since her head was getting over much of what happened last night. It wasn't as worse had she drunk more, but there was a numbing ache that kept coming and going.

It had been but a split second, but she could tell that Arya had shed some tears. Had the Septa verbally torture her that much? Amara's eyes looked over her shoulder, wondering if the woman was following them if she decided to at all. Luckily, it was just the two of them.

Arya led her towards the guardroom where her direwolf was sitting at the end of the stairs and making Amara feel uncomfortable all over. The direwolves were everywhere; she could never escape them. Her mind tried to block them out but their presence was overwhelming. She would never get used to the wolves that were growing much too fast for her liking. When they were fully grown, Amara doubted she would feel brave enough to come to Winterfell again. It would already be painful in one aspect, now scary in another.

No matter how she was feeling, Arya was happy to see her wolf and let go of Amara's hand to untie her. "I heard you named her Nymeria." Amara decided to pick up conversation, looking at the golden eyes of the wolf briefly. "I think it is fitting." She complimented while looking up at the sky, marveling at the blueness that was visible to them today. Clouds were scattered, puffy and white, but not too much to give a dreadful mood like it had been on and off the past few days due to Winter's approach.

"Better than Sansa's Lady?" She asked, brow hitched as she looked over her shoulder after hugging her small wolf in her arms. The wolf licked away at the girl's ears, making her giggle in the process.

"Lady is a fine name too." Personally, Amara didn't understand _why_ Sansa named the wolf Lady. What had been the reason? She had no clue. It didn't seem much like a name but who was she to judge? It was Sansa's wolf and as far as the healer was concerned, the wolves could be given any names they liked.

"Right." With a roll of her eyes and having not a bone in her body that believed Amara, she placed the wolf down onto the ground after their tight embrace. "Will you come with me? The boys are practicing in the yard and I want to see Robb show Prince Joffrey what us Starks can do."

Robb did tell little that he didn't much care for the prince last night. It had been odd seeing as Amara didn't know what the prince had exactly done to make the Winterfell heir dislike him. Robb was kind and got along with mostly everyone and so what was it about the prince? It made her wary, seeing as an enemy of his would probably be an enemy of her's too.

Arya's request made her immediately want to say no. She wanted to be far away from Jon for she was sure he'd be there with Robb and Joffrey. Amara didn't want to see him for what of her resolve? But how could she turn Arya down? What would she do with her own time? Austin went off with Bran of which she was sure both of them would be there as well. Arya asked and her son would be there too. That would be a good distraction. She could ignore Jon due to them, couldn't she?

Fighting the need to bite her lip, she gave Arya a rather stiff nod. "You hadn't seen much of me last night, so I'll be with you as long as you'd like today."

Smiling, Arya seemed satisfied with the answer and decided to walk alongside her. "We haven't been spending much time together at all really." Of which was true, "And I read some of what you wrote in the book. I'm amazed about those arrows, the howling ones the most."

"Ah, I knew you would be." The Howling Arrow was infamous in Yi Ti. It was the arrow of her people, created by their God-Emperor. It was used more so to cause panic and distraction. Because of the way the arrows were made, they howled like a deadly creature in the air. It still could kill no less but that wasn't its true purpose, but she was sure that with the Starks and their house sigil of a direwolf, Arya would be interested in such a thing from the name alone.

"Can you teach me how to make one?" The request left her hesitant. It had been such a long time since Amara even touched an arrow. The last she had was the one that pierced her shoulder as she used her own body to shield Naran.

With a hum, the healer tilted her head in thought. "I can't be so sure that I can do that for you, my lady. For one, you won't ever be able to fire it here. Do you know how much you'd scare everyone?"

"I'm not stupid!" The girl barked rather passionately, "I wouldn't fire it here."

"Then how will you know it works?" She asked. Arya was a determined one, she wouldn't let this go; Amara was sure of that. "Second, I have no idea how to make one for all the materials are not here. Our arrows and our bows differ than the ones you use in Westeros. Our styles of shooting them are even different here."

Frowning, along with pouting, the young girl merely glared at the woman from the corners of her eyes because she knew Amara was right. "What about the other ones? The iron-head, the one like a v, and the fire ones? You have so many different arrows."

"You think of me as an arrow maker?" Chuckling, she was a little more than happy that Arya thought so highly of her.

Disappointed, Arya sighed, but she had another idea. "Send your brother a letter and tell him to leave instructions and give materials then?"

"You mean you want me to send a parchment across Westeros and to the Jade sea all for proper makings to create various types of arrows of our people? My brother would fear that letter is not from me. You wouldn't even get a reply." Although Amara wanted to help for she was all for the cause of Arya being strong as a woman as men are but she could not help her with this.

"What a waste of connections!" Entertained by her anger, Amara said nothing as they walked. They were making their way to the covered bridge, the one that was connected between the armory and the Great Keep. Apparently, there had been a window there that had a good view of the entire yard. Amara hadn't known this, but what would have done with such information? The yard never interested her before. Once they reached it, they ended their conversation since Amara abruptly stopped from seeing Jon.

It was odd really, to think he looked even more handsome with his eyes staring out at the large, open yard. He was sitting on the sill, one leg was drawn up indolently to his chin. He looked so intrigued by what he was watching that he hadn't even noticed them. Amara just found herself feeling very much stuck with her eyes unable to look away from him. She was almost surprised there weren't holes in his skin from her long stare. Her mind was thinking stupidly, thinking how the sun seemed to highlight all his features that left her in awe. Her resolve meant nothing right now, that is until she shook her head free of those silly thoughts.

It was Ghost that was aware of them. The white direwolf had moved close, greeting them of the sorts, and Nymeria had moved rather warily to meet him. Arya had watched them, smiling as Ghost gave Nymeria a playful nip of her ear before settling back down where he once was. Ghost was so similar to Jon, she thought. Arya had then caught sight of Jon turning to look at them, his eyes showing curiosity but most of all surprise. Inquisitive herself, her eyes followed up to look at the healer, who was locked in a heated battle of stares with him.

Her eyes moved like a pendulum, to and fro, wondering why the two weren't speaking. Normally, Jon and Amara wouldn't stop talking. Arya found herself entertained with the way they spoke to one another mainly because they showed different sides of themselves that seemed exclusive to just them. Amara didn't seem so perfect with Jon, she seemed much more fun and relaxed and not poised and careful. Arya had known that side of her, but it was much more prevalent with her half brother around. Amara was the first to look away, finding interest elsewhere and Arya had seen Jon frown at this. He then forced himself to smile and looked at her instead now, but she was still trying to guess what exactly happened between the two. "Shouldn't you be working on your stitches, little sister?" He said, a smirk present on his lips but the mocking tone that should've been there seemed lost.

"I wanted to see them fight." Arya admitted, her face showing her undying excitement of seeing Joffrey knocked on his bottom by her Robb. "Amara, you're staying, aren't you?" If the healer stayed then she'd could probably find out what happened and patch things up. Arya thought Jon deserved happiness and if he found it with Amara, she wanted him to keep it. Never did she forget that Jon never answered her question before, of whether he liked the healer or not.

The healer tensed some. Jon looked at her, wondering what her answer would be as well. "I think I'll see the fight much closer." Even though she did not want to part with Arya, Amara just couldn't be near Jon. It was already awkward and she didn't need the girl in the middle of it. It wouldn't be fair to her since Arya wanted to see Joffrey knocked on his arse not two seven and tens ignoring each other in a such blatant way.

"What?" Confused, a brow quirked, as Arya looked at up her. "You won't be allowed there."

"In fact I could be." Crinkling her nose, she gave a loose smirk. "Austin is down there and _he_ is under Robb's tutelage. You can't bar a mother from seeing her child, can you?"

"You slickster!" Grinning, Arya's lips then pursed. "That isn't fair, you get to see Prince Joffrey's loser face up close."

"I'll tell you if he sheds a tear or two." She playfully added, "Afterwards, we can meet up, can't we?"

"I'onno." The girl bristled with a unsure shrug of her shoulders, "Depends if Mother or Septa Mordane haven't found me yet."

That was true. Septa Mordane probably told Lady Catelyn that the girl ran out of her needlework lessons by now, which she was absolutely sure would infuriate the girl's mother. Licking her lips, she shook her head, "Not unless I help you in time."

Grateful, Arya nodded in thought. "Mother will be mad at you too."

"That's quite alright. I'm used to it now." Leaving the bridge, she gave a slight wave to Arya and completely paid no heed to Jon, despite feeling his eyes on her. Amara quickened her pace, wanting to get far away from him as possible. It truly was odd but more so saddening to see him and not smile or not even speak to him. This was the way things had to be though, for his sake and hers.

By the time she reached the area where the men and the boys were drilling, her eyes watched Bran and Prince Tommen in their match. Why were they so heavily padded? Maybe so they wouldn't cause dangerous harm to one another, she suddenly realized. It made sense but it looked difficult for the boys to even move let alone strike. Somehow, someway, they were able to move their arms well enough to hit one another even though their swords were padded too. Ser Rodrik was watching with a careful gaze as she made sure not to get too close.

Robb was loud, cheering so hard in support for little Bran. Her eyes watched as Theon sat beside him, but there was an odd look on his face. Amara found herself wondering why he wore such an expression that looked to be of scorn. Was it for the Lannister boy? It wouldn't be fair to be that way towards a child. Not thinking much of it longer, her eyes found Austin, who was more so in the back, cheering for the young Stark too. She smiled then before looking at Bran and Tommen in their spar.

Their skinny legs were wobbly and their breaths ragged, little chests rising and falling as they tried to refill their lungs with air. Had they been fighting for long? It was then that young Bran gave Tommen a good whack before they began to dance in a circle, trying to find an opening. How long would this fight be? She could imagine Arya was probably complaining and pointing out how better and faster this fight would've been had she been in the ring.

Looking away, her eyes searched around for Prince Joffrey. She didn't even know what the prince exactly looked like. If she had used Sansa's description, from what she recalled last night, the girl thought he was the most gorgeous thing she ever laid eyes on. Amara thought for sure that the girl was exaggerating, but what better way to have known than to see for herself? In the back, near the high stone wall, Amara had thought she caught sight of him. Who else would be surrounded by squires of Lannister and Baratheon? He was so heavily guarded, which made some sense since he was prince. Before her eyes could study him, a loud thud captured her ears instead.

Her eyes quickly shifted back to the match to see Prince Tommen on the ground, rolling in what looked to be dust in order to get up. The poor boy wasn't able to due to the padding that he wore and he was a little on the chubby side to boot. He looked like dough rolling in batter and the healer thought that was the cutest thing despite how manly this sport was supposed to be. Bran stood over him, padded sword in hand, and ready to strike, which made the scene awkward yet infuriatingly humorous. She could see why the men began to laugh and she even willed herself not to as well.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrik's voice boomed throughout the yard, making Amara stiffen since she was caught off guard by it. The man walked over, giving the little prince his hand, and pulled him onto his small feet.

"Well fought. Lew, Donnis, help them out of their armor." He looked around, obviously looking for someone. Possibly the next contenders? Amara hoped so. "Prince Joffrey, Robb, will you go another round?"

Robb's face was lightened up by a smirk, "Gladly." He said as his hand was wiping away traces of sweat from his face. He must've fought earlier, which Amara wondered if she should've been disappointed or grateful that she missed it. Amara was well aware how good he was with a lance. It seemed like Robb had won too since he didn't seem put down as she would've figured had he lost.

Prince Joffrey had left the shade from the high stone wall, his green eyes shone with boredom and his mouth thinned. "This is a game for children, Ser Rodrik."

Confused, but startled by the sudden eruption of laughter from Theon, her eyes moved to look back at him. "You _are_ children." Just like the look he had on earlier, he still seemed snide. Maybe Theon really did not like the Lannisters like she suspected earlier. Maybe everyone in Winterfell felt contempt for them, but why? Amara was unaware why there was such hostility between houses even though Theon was a Greyjoy. Amara still wasn't aware all that happened in Westeros but maybe it was best she eventually did so she wasn't so blindsided. The wars and damage of the past were ever so present in the company of the future generation.

"Robb may be a child," Joffrey spat, "But _I_ am a prince. And I grow tired of swatting at Starks with a play sword." He was sneering now, his nose upturned and his eyes looking down despite the fact that Robb was very much taller as well as older than him. How does being a prince make you older anyway? Amara was confused by that statement.

Cool and calm, Robb bit back. "You got more swats than you gave, Joff." Cocking his head in an arrogant angle, he smirked. "Are you afraid?"

"Oh, _terrified_." Sardonically said the prince, "You're _so_ much older." Of course, some of the men with him found his ridicule funny but Amara was starting to see why Robb didn't care for the boy. _'What a pretentious little shit.'_ She thought to herself. How could Sansa be so smitten? She almost hoped her advice would be wrong before, but they were sadly true. Joffrey was nothing like Sansa hoped him to be, but who knows? Maybe he was much different around her than he was with others. All people had a different side to them.

The master-at-arms played with his whiskers in what looked to be deep thought. His eyes closed halfway as he stared at his prince, "What are you suggesting?"

"Live steel."

Amara's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, her eyes then looking back at Robb. "Done," The Stark shot back, "you'll be sorry!"

If Robb wounded the prince, there'd be hell to pay. Certainly, Queen Cersei would not like it. King Robert, well, Amara was unsure of his reaction. If it was a light wound, just a knick, then he'd say it was a learning lesson of that she was sure. But if Robb accidentally wounded him gravely? Amara was afraid of what could happen to him. Ser Rodrik didn't like it either, he placed his large hand on Robb's shoulder to quell him. "Live steel is too dangerous. I will permit you tourney swords, with blunted edges."

Agreeing with him, she moved her head in a quiet and slow nod despite that none of them could see it. However, a large knight with harsh burn scars and straight black hair came walking forward, pushing his way in front of Prince Joffrey. He was certainly intimidating; a very scary man by appearance alone. _'Well, someone wanted him to roast.'_ Amara thought at how great the burns were on his leathery looking skin. It felt wrong to be so judgmental, but she was starting think sour of the Lannisters and their supporters by the minute. "This is your prince. Who are you to tell him he may not have an edge on his sword, ser?"

"Master-at-arms of Winterfell, Clegane, and you would do well not to forget it." Rodrik said, completely void of intimidation and standing by his words. Amara smiled some, appreciative of the man's firm stance.

Clegane, as Rodrik called him, was not backing down whatsoever. "Are you training women here?"

"I am training knights." Boy, was Amara glad that Ser Rodrik was not a man of pride that was easily wounded. Most men wouldn't have taken that, but he was levelheaded to not let the insult pierce the heart. "They will have steel when they are ready."

Sighing, she began to tune out the rest of the conversation. Not all too sure she cared for anything this Clegane man had to say. Her eyes looked up at Austin, who looked at the man warily. She wanted to grab his attention, make him give her a quick hello, but he was all too interested in this verbal back and forth. Most of the men and boys were for reasons unknown to her. This was such petty arguing. Why argue when the time could've been spent on sparring? Then again, it was the prince's stupid suggestion that started all this. He only wanted to use live steel to show off. Amara knew, without doubt, that Robb could beat him easily.

"Let me do it. I can beat him." She heard Robb say, adamant about fighting the prince now than he was ever before.

Ser Rodrik would not relent, "Beat him with a tourney blade then."

Joffrey shrugged his shoulders, "Come and see me when you're older, Stark. If you're not _too_ old." The Lannister men laughed again, amused by their prince's weak and tasteless bon mots.

Sighing, she had bit back her anger, and kept her eyes focused completely on Robb. He was cursing left and right, obviously angry as he should be. Theon kept the heir from making his way to the prince with an iron grip as Ser Rodrik played with his whiskers with a look she couldn't read. Part of her wanted to walk over, to calm Robb's temper herself, but she kept her feet firmly planted. This was none of her business. If a woman came to his defense, they would think and call him less of a man.

Patting his mouth as he gave a sham of a yawn, his Lannister green eyes then looked down at his little brother. "Come, Tommen," Joffrey ordered, "the hour of play is done. Leave the children to their frolics." Of course, laughter came from the usual suspects, but it made Robb curse at them even more.

Amara's eyes watched the Lannisters and the prince leave, eyes narrowing as Theon kept Robb still at bay and Ser Rodrik was trying to calm his own temper. Seeing as the spectators were dispersing, allowing her to go freely as she wished, she made her way towards Robb in quick strides. "Calm yourself, Young Lord." Her voice was soft in tone, his eyes looking to her in surprise and for brief moment, chagrin. She had seen all of this? Surely, he suspected that she thought him immature and a loser for allowing Joffrey to get away with insulting him like that.

As much as she wanted to voice the thought she had about the prince earlier to him, she didn't. "I can't stand him." Robb went onto say, Amara nodded in agree. She was greatly put off by the boy too, but she couldn't say she hated him. She disliked him but hate? Not at all.

"Don't let him get to you." Trying to ease him out of his anger, she didn't want him to trouble himself and allowing him to let Joffrey rile him. "You only proved that you're a much better man than him. In fact, you proved he's still very much a boy." Giving him a smile, she also gave a slight shrug. "If it means anything, I'm proud of you."

Surprised, the bright-eyed Stark smiled at that. Theon rose a brow, looking back and forth between the two. "Are you two flirting?"

"Not at all." Amara immediately rejected, "I'm surprised you're not at the brothel, Greyjoy."

Smirking, he gave a lazy shrug. "After all this, I might as well go. Is Ros in?"

The healer was very much aware that Theon favored Ros. Ros continually bragged that the Greyjoy was smitten with her and no other girl could do for him except her. Amara wouldn't call him smitten, but she did think he liked her in some unusual way. If anything had breasts and a cave, Theon was eager to explore it. He was just lecherous that way.

"If you're going to the Woolly Cat, tell Ros hello for me. Meanwhile, I'll make sure the Young Lord doesn't rip the prince apart in your place." Patting the Stark's arm sportively, she gave him a wink at her teasing, Robb let out a slight chuckle as Theon shrugged.

"Fine by me." It didn't cross her mind that he would take her words so literally. Her eyes blinked twice, watching the ward saunter away.

"Is he really… ?" She muttered in disbelief, "I was only joking but…"

"Did you really think he wouldn't?" Robb questioned with a smirk, "Ros does wonders to him."

Her lips were still agape, eyes watching Theon's back become farther and farther away from their line of sight. "Maybe he is as smitten as a kitten." She mumbled, not expecting for Robb to have heard her.

"Smitten as a kitten?" He repeated incredulously, "That's a new one on me." Embarrassed, her eyes widened and she immediately looked up at him. "That's cute, the saying that is."

"You didn't hear that!" Turning away fiercely, she gathered the bottom of her garb to leave him but Robb insistently followed.

"Yes I did! You said, "Smitten as a kitten!" You very much did, Amara. No need to run nor hide, I heard you loud in the clear." The healer cringed at how loud he was. Lowering her head as she tried to get herself farther away from him, but his feet and his laughter followed right behind her.

His lips tucked morosely as his eyes pointedly watched Amara be so abashed and fighting what looked to be the trembles of laughter. His eyes couldn't look away, no matter how much he wanted them to. She was running away from a laughing Robb, and seemed content just being away from him. Her eyes haunted Jon's dreams last night and they still haunt him now while he was awake. It was as if they were trying to tell him something and he had foolishly been unable to decipher the message in them. It still hurt, how she acted and what she said, and then to see her so blithe right now was another kick to the stomach. It almost made Jon feel that when he was gone, off to the Wall, she'd be happy without him. It wasn't like he wanted her to be sad, well, maybe just a little he did. But to know Robb could get to see her rare smiles or play with her in this way like Jon did, he almost wanted to hate her.

Arya hadn't left just yet. She still sat on the sill beside her brother, her eyes observing Amara and Robb as well after Joffrey's shocking stupidity. Both siblings spoke lowly of him even though he was their prince. Jon, as she humorously recalled, called him a little shit and she was enlightened on some of the limits her brother's had still. He couldn't even be the one to hurt Prince Joffrey because he was a bastard and only bruises could be inflicted by the swords of trueborns. It was stupid, the way bastards were treated. Arya was glad, however, that Robb had cooled his temper. She feared what might've happened if Theon hadn't kept him still or Amara hadn't distracted him.

It had been odd though, watching them play after noticing how strained the relationship was between Amara and Jon. Normally, it would've been the healer and her half brother playing about, acting like children, but now they didn't even speak to one another. She had to find out why they were like this. It could be in her hands to right their mess. After all, adults could be stupid sometimes, Arya thought. Sometimes a kid could fix things.

"What happened?" Her eyes slowly looked to her left, looking up at Jon and away from the yard. "Between you and Amara." She clarified, making sure he knew exactly what she was asking and not anything pertaining to what happened in the courtyard with Prince Joffrey.

It made him feel uncomfortable, possibly talking about this to Arya. His little sister already suspected his feelings for the healer months ago and he would just confirm them if he spoke about what transpired. She might just blab her mouth and cause more damage than he was already suffering through. At the same time, Arya knew Amara well and they had a good friendship. Jon halfway suspected that Amara would speak more freely with her than she would anyone else. He might get an answer to fix things or to let alone know how the healer truly felt. But at the end of it all, this would mean Arya would find out he was going to the Wall and he hadn't been ready to relay the news to her just yet.

So how could he word this?

"I told her I was thinking on leaving." He said, seeing his sister's eyes widen before quickly squinting accusingly. "Only thinking it, little sister, have not entirely made up my mind." It was a little white lie and it could hold until he was ready to tell her, he was sure. "She told me we should say our goodbyes now. She hasn't spoken to me since last night."

Reflecting on this, it hadn't made much sense. It was possible that Jon was hiding a few things from her to either save face or not upset her. It already did though, the idea of him leaving. Out of all her siblings, she was closest to Jon because he looked just like her. They both took after their father while the rest of them looked Tully through and through, especially Sansa and Robb. And to know he would leave her? It made her heart ache some and made her eyes want to prickle with tears, but she held it off. She wanted to believe that it was just a thought and not the actual truth like he said.

"Maybe she's sad." Arya replied, looking back at the healer, who was covering her face with her hair as Robb kept on picking on her for reasons unknown to them. "You and Amara were good friends. It's sad to part with 'em. She might've thought it'd be easier to say goodbye now than later because the longer you two are close, the more dawning it is you're going to leave." Her head then tilted in thought, the slightest of smiles on her face. "Do you know why I never say anything when Amara calls me lady?"

Her brother looked at her, shaking his head as he didn't come up with an answer. "No, why?"

"Because Amara doesn't use the word lady like everyone else." Looking down at her hands, she absently drew circles as she continued. "Amara doesn't think a lady is just good with stitches or can sing pretty songs or dance. Amara thinks that a lady can do whatever she wants and supports me like you do. She likes that I want to be a fighter, she let me learn certain things about the weapons and tactics of her home." Her eyes looked at him, smiling like her lips. "When she cares for you, she only wants what's best for you."

Jon had became still, seeing his little sister's points. He desperately wanted to believe that Amara would be sad that he was gone because then maybe it would mean that he meant something to her. He feared he meant nothing, especially now after what happened. That strange look in her eyes could've been just that, a message that she would possibly miss him. What if she only spoke in such a way that he didn't feel guilty about leaving her? Her early goodbyes could've been whole reason Arya stated. After all, despite how much his sister didn't want to be, she was a girl and girls knew other girls best, right? His eyes looked to her, tousling her hair minutes later. "You might be right."

Arya found herself smiling, nearly wanting to smirk as if to say _"Of course I am!"_. Yet, she had her reservations because Amara was certainly a hard person to figure out. There were many of times Arya noticed the woman's smile never really reached her eyes or there was a look of sorrow hidden deep within them. She was still a mystery in ways that irritated Arya but kept her wanting to know more and was glad whenever the healer did open up, even if it was just a little. Arya could probably say she knew Amara in ways that Sansa never could.

"You had best run back to your room, little sister." Jon's voice broke her out of her thoughts, her eyes rolling. "Septa Mordane will surely be lurking. The longer you hide, the sterner the penance. You'll be sewing all through Winter. When the Spring thaw comes, they will find your body with a needle still locked tight between your frozen fingers."

It wasn't funny, at least Arya didn't think it was. Her eyes merely narrowed, her ire rising and making her voice become loud. "I hate needlework! It's not fair!"

Solemnly, Jon forced himself to smile but it wasn't warm. "Nothing is fair." Messing with her hair once more, he had left her with Ghost moving quietly, and as usual, by his side. Nymeria was about follow them but stopped her little paws when she noticed Arya was heading in another direction.

 **:::**

"See? My hair isn't that ba—ouch!"

His hair was full of tangles and it hurt when his mother combed through it in spite of the brave front he tried to pull. He thought he could talk her out of it but now it was obvious he was lying. Austin's lips flapped, blowing a raspberry each time the comb undid them. She would apologize though, rubbing his little shoulder until he was okay for her to continue on. Austin was grateful how gentle she was or else he would've been continuously screaming because his mother wouldn't want to keep on stopping. That was how he imaged Lady Catelyn would act whenever she combed Brandon and Rickon's hair. His eyes looked at their corners, seeing her gather another section of his hair to comb through and it wasn't as tangled at the rest of it had been. It must've been from all the dirt and sweat from training with Lord Robb, he had seen just about all the dirt and grime from the yard after she washed his hair.

"How was training?" She had asked him, genuinely interested in these things. Amara showed interest in most things a woman ought not to be, except for Lady Arya. She was the only exception to that too. Lady Sansa, however, hated anything that wasn't girly, which always made Austin rarely want to be around her. The red-haired girl told him he should be like the commoner boy in fairytales, the one who become proper warriors with hearts made of gold. It was stupid to him because Austin didn't want a heart of gold, he wanted a heart of iron. "Young Lord says you're good at being swift but not too good with proper stances."

"It's true." He bristled, frowning as he thought about it. "Jon showed me how to fix 'em though. Lord Robb is better with a lance while Jon is better with a sword, so I learn from 'em both when they let me." His eyes observed the way his mother's face changed at the mention of Jon. Usually, her eyes would crinkle a little more and her smile would be a much more warmer sight at the mention of him. Now it had the opposite effect. "Did something happen between you and Jon, Mother?" Turning to face her, leaving the comb in his hair from his quick movement, he was facing her with his eyes full of question. "Did he hurt you?"

"No." Her answer sounded like a lie, her voice was unusually calm. Although his mother rarely was never not calm, it wasn't the kind he had known. It was more like the hiding kind of calm that made him even more suspicious if there was truth in her answer. "He and I just aren't on the greatest of terms now." Her hands made his head turn to face the mirror again as she went back to comb his hair.

"But why?" His brows furrowed, definitely lost and curious as to what happened. "You and Jon are the best of friends."

From her reflection in the mirror, he saw her lips create a deeper frown and her shoulders droop just a little. Amara was sad, he rarely ever saw her so. "Sometimes friendships aren't meant to last, Austin. Hopefully that will never happen to you." Apparently, she finished because she placed the comb down and rested her cheek against his head. Austin smiled at the action because he loved whenever she gave him affection. Upon his request, she started treating him more like a man in public and more like a child whenever they were alone or at home.

"I hope you and Jon can fix it." Austin was hopeful that it wouldn't be permanent. He turned to look at her, watching her rub the top of his head. "Me and Bran, I mean—" She shook her head, knowing that it was okay he didn't hold the title when it was just the two of them. "We got in a really bad fight one time but we were friends again!"

"I'm not so sure of that, my little one. Jon and I very much differ from you and Young Lord Brandon." It hurt. It hurt to see her so unsure because his mother was always sure of everything. There was never not a time where his mother hadn't spoke without conviction but now she seemed lost. Defeated.

Austin frowned deeply, "I don't know about that, Mother. Bran wants to become a Knight for the Kingsguard. So, he and I won't probably be friends for much longer."

With a empathetic sigh, she rubbed both his shoulders as he lowered his head. Austin had been fearing the day that he and Bran could only talk by letters now. Bran wanted to be a knight so badly and the spar in the training yard with Prince Tommen was just the first step of many. Bran always said they would remain friends and one day Austin could eventually visit him, but how likely would that be? What reason would Austin have to venture south?

"Do you want to go see him now?" Amara asked, he gave a rather vigorous nod. "Yes. He and I are going to play a game with Prince Tommen. Hopefully, that wanker isn't 'round."

"Who is the wanker?" Her eyebrow hitched, Austin noticed his mistake right then. How could he call Prince Joffrey, future King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, a wanker in front of his mother? Grimacing, he gave a nervous smile. "Austin, you know better than to speak that way of your prince." She admonished lightly, "Although I agree, he is a little—" Not wanting to swear, she used a kinder substitute, "berk."

"Berk?" Austin repeated, unsure if he ever heard such a word. "What does _that_ even mean?"

She smiled, "It means idiot as far as I know. I heard a Westerosi sailor say it once."

Their conversation abruptly ended. The knock upon her door was frenzied and both of them looked at one another in confusion. Amara stood, walking over and opening the door to see a panting Grant, "Miss Amara, we are in dire need of your services."

"What has happened?" She question, eyes glossing with worry. "Did someone get hurt?"

"The Young Lord, Bran, has fallen!" He desperately shouted, both Amara and Austin went pale with eyes wide. Austin was the first to move, leaving his mother's sight and pushing past the knight, and when she finally digested the news, Amara had quickly run behind him.

By the time she had arrived to Bran's room, Maester Luwin's head hung solemnly, eyes firmly closed as Lady Catelyn sang songs of wails in harmony with Sansa. Lord Eddard Stark stood, head down and eyes squeezing shut with a face as hard as stone. Austin had stood beside Lady Catelyn, eyes staring at what looked to be a sleeping boy with his own eyes glossing with tears. He had been so strong, Amara thought. He wanted to cry but he held himself back because he knew that his tears would not give solace to Lady Catelyn or the confused but hurt Rickon. The room was crowded for Robb and Arya stood in it too. There was no sight of Jon, which made Amara wonder had he known. He must've and he was letting the trueborn get their time with him. Her heart ached twice as much in his place.

In slow strides, she immediately went to Luwin. "Your diagnosis?" She asked quietly and he had whispered in her ear and her eyes widened at his answer. According to Luwin, it is unsure of whether the boy would live or not and the one thing that remained sure of it all was that he'd never walk again. The boy who loved to climb and stare out his home, the boy with sweet dreams of being a knight, would no longer do what he dreamed and loved. No child should ever be punished this cruelly, but as her father once told her: _"Maiden-Made-of-Light had turned her back on the world to let the Lion of Night rule during the Long Night, but sometimes I think she grows tired of humanity at times and lets him do whatever he wishes, even harm the innocent."_ As much as she didn't want to believe in these Gods, her heart nearly feared that it was true. If the Seven were good, and were true in the hearts of Westeros, why had they turned their back on Bran?

It was wrong, to question the Gods, but Amara dared to do so. Why would they put this boy, of pure heart and mind, through this pain? Bran was a sweet boy, who gave her smiles and words of kindness. She could clearly remember a time where he rested his small head in her side as they sat in the Godswood with Rickon resting his on her lap. The times with them were few but each time moved her heart in a good way, and to know what has become of him now made her wish she had been harder on him too about climbing.

"Can you do something?" Lady Catelyn asked, her hands folded in front of her and her eyes still raining. "Amara, can you do what the Maester cannot?"

How pitiful and desperate she sounded. Amara didn't want to see her face but she knew she had to, meeting the raining rivers of Tully eyes. Her plea made her want to lie but what good would it have done? "I'm afraid I agree with the Maester, my lady." There was nothing she could do it, she knew it. Once a person had fallen from such heights, their backs were surely to be broken and their legs shattered. Oh, his little legs. They'd never be the same nor walk again.

A sob, quiet but the effect still a powerful force, came out and the woman shook. Lord Eddard walked over to her, resting his hands on his wife's small shoulders to give her comfort. Amara closed her eyes, head low. "I'll do whatever it is in my power to make sure he wakes. I will work vigilantly with Maester Luwin." That was the only certainty she could give. The Maester nodded, giving her a small and sad smile out of gratitude. What was to become of Bran still lied in the waters of the unknown. For right now, the fight was all in the hands of the Gods and of the little boy with shattered legs who lied sleep like death.

Lady Catelyn was forced away by Lord Eddard and the Maester but Amara knew the woman would be back. Sansa just about couldn't keep seeing her little brother like this, and so with a heavy heart, she left as well. Arya had left too but with Austin and Rickon since Amara didn't want her son to linger around much longer to continuously upset himself. With much argument between them until he finally listened, she was left with just Robb, who now took a chair to sit beside the boy's bedside. Silence just filled the room, hanging on in efforts to not go away. Amara had slowly walked over, brushing some of Bran's fringe away from his face affectionately.

It was hard to see Robb, usually either smiling or completely hardened with calm, look so broken. His eyes were glossing with tears but his hands kept rubbing his face in order to wipe them away. He didn't want her to see his tears. _'Such a man thing to do'_ , she thought. Did he think she'd think him weak by the sight of them? She kept her lips stuck because she knew no words would suffice. It would be silly to tell him to cry because his body desperately wanted him to. So, instead, she placed her hands on his shoulders behind him in a way of comfort. He hadn't moved or asked her away, he just sat there providing her nothing of whether he wanted her sympathy or not.

"Why do the Gods do this?" He finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. Amara looked away from Bran, focusing on the eldest Stark. "We aren't meant to question them, for they know more than we, but why would they want to hurt Bran? Why him of all people? Why not the ones who cause harm to the weak and defenseless?"

Amara gave his shoulders a squeeze, "We do not know what the Gods think, Young Lord. What they have in store for Bran is unforeseeable. Why do they wish him to be in this state is beyond you, beyond me, and beyond all our knowledge." Her head hung but there was fire in her eyes, lingering her voice. "But either way, he will not succumb, he will prosper, of that I can be sure of. You must believe it too."

His gloved hand slowly reached up, grabbing onto one of her hands on his shoulder. Amara smiled at this, glad that Robb trusted her enough to believe in her words. She gave him little comfort, which was better than giving him none. Amara had to leave Robb though and let him go through the process on his own. He did not need her breathing down his neck and he did not need her invading this moment between brothers. There might be a great many things Robb wanted to tell his little brother, and she didn't need to be intrusive of such precious time. And so she pulled her hands away, feeling his hand clasp at hers again. Surprised, she watched him turn to look at her. "You're leaving?"

"Yes." Her eyes met his as she gave her answer, "I need to find out how I can help the Maester rouse him from this sleep. I also want to see Jon." Her admittance was rather feeble towards the end.

Her resolve meant nothing to her now. Jon probably desperately wanted to see Bran, to know of what happened, and he had no clue what state the boy was in. He was probably afraid to even come here out of fear Lady Catelyn remained within the room. Amara was sure the woman would be cruel to him. In many ways, Amara just couldn't understand how Lady Catelyn could fault Jon over something he had no control over.

Robb's eyes flashed with something, something she hadn't understood. His grip on her hand briefly tightened, not enough to hurt, but then went loose and let her go. Amara furrowed her brows, questioning what the action had meant as she lightly touched the hand he once held. "He'll need you." He stated, making her eyes widen. With a sniff, he wiped his face again. "You do good to Jon. You do good to us all, but to Jon most of all." The healer wanted to ask what he meant but found the words lost and gone from her lips. "Go on. Go." He urged her and she found herself giving a weak nod before turning to leave, but she couldn't help to abruptly stop at the doorway. From over her shoulder, the healer peered at Robb almost apologetically before leaving and going down the steps without a sound.

Jon's room wasn't far and she had known the path. There were plenty of times she went just to stare at his door and found herself unable to bring herself to knock because she thought she was overstepping her boundaries. To go to a man's room could only be interpreted as one thing, no matter how innocent her thoughts and actions were. Sometimes she went just to see his face; she had been that foolishly idyllic, but Amara ultimately knew better. She'd knew what people would say and how Jon would be faulted too by her actions. It hadn't mattered if they call her a sally, saying she was fucking the Warden's bastard, all because they saw her go to his chambers, but Jon didn't need that to be said about him. For some reason, she thought any sexual rumor between the two of them would only infuriate him irregardless of them knowing it not to be true. Never minding how it would ruin all who thought highly of her, she only thought of him.

Her feet had concluded their steps upon his door, her hands interlocked as she stared at it with a look of anxiety. How could she greet him a hello when she gave him a final goodbye? How could she want to comfort him when she added the first cut to their friendship? Her bottom lip was being chewed away, abused by her nervousness and her inability to find the strength to go through with this. Maybe she should just leave, just leave him to deal with this all on his own. He possibly might not want her words of consolation, for what would they mean to him now? Nothing, she feared. They would mean absolutely nothing.

The door swung open, startling her, and leaving her eyes as big as a doe's. The moonless grey of Jon's eyes were staring at her with equal shock, but there was currents of hurt that override it. "What are you…?" He began to say, looking quite awkward. His eyes suddenly then flashed with thought, "Is Bran…?" He looked as if he couldn't find it in himself to finish that question.

"Whether Bran lives or not is entirely up to the Gods now." Her mind worked for her because her heart was as somber and still as it could ever be. "He will…" Swallowing thickly, she lowered her head, "he will never walk again though." Her eyes couldn't drink up Jon's expression now, but she felt she could feel his aura just drop in wretched disbelief. He walked away from the door, leaving it open, and began to pace with his hands continuously rubbing his face like Robb had done minutes ago. His hands soon cupped over his mouth, a long exhale leaving out of him. Amara rose her head, watching him and followed him in.

"How could this have happened? Bran never falls. Never." He sounded so sure, arms moving in ways to give sight and body to his shock, "And there's nothing… nothing that can be done…"

In wake of it all, she found herself feeling inadequate as a healer. She had fixed broken legs and arms, she had cured Arya from a poison unknown to most. Amara had done miracles before but now her hands could do nothing for Bran. Her mind couldn't conjure up a single thought, not a page in her mother's book that spoke of situations like this. How was she a healer? She couldn't save a boy. Just one little boy that needed her the most. She prided herself in saving children but she could not save little Bran. All the weight of this sudden blame she started to feel began to seep into her pores, crawling into her, and making her feel heavy with weights of incompetence.

Her head remained lowered as she quietly spoke, "You can fault me for not being a good enough healer to save him."

"What?" Astonished, he turn to look at her but her eyes were staring at the floor. "Why would I blame you? There's nothing you nor the Maester can do for him now, Amara. It is not your fault."

"If I were a better healer, he could walk and he would be awake!" She snapped, her eyes began to flood now. "Everyone has looked to me as if the Gods give me knowledge or some sort of power to heal. Have you known how many people traveled through the lands to Wintertown for my services?! I've done a great many things, of things I was unsure of how I did, but I can't think of a single thought to save that boy! I am not as good as so many people think, I am a failure! A sham!"

Her voice was the loudest he had ever heard it. Another first was watching the young woman who always walked so proud, so regally, look so weak. Her knees buckled and she had fell on them, with her eyes reminding him of waterfalls. Her shoulders quivered as she let out a spell of sobs that sang a song of despair. Amara looked so frail, so small, right now. It was as if you'd touched her, she'd break into little pieces. Jon's heart had sunk as far as it ever could; the weight of their broken friendship, the ledge of life and death that Bran was on, and the thought of leaving the only home he had ever known was now beginning to weigh like an anchor down on him. His steps were slow, few at first, but then he rushed and lowered to pull her in a close embrace. Her face rested against the crook of his neck, wetting his skin cold with her crisp tears. Jon's eyes fell close, burying his nose in her soft, black hair that he thought he knew for sure he'd never see again. His body rocked in a lulling, repetitive sway, trying to mitigate her cries.

"Don't leave, Jon." Clutching at the back of his black tunic, she held it in tight grips, as her voice quavered. "Please, don't leave." Like a child; she sounded like a hurt and lost little girl that feared to lose the closest thing to her she had left. Just the sound made Jon's arms hold her much more tightly, pressing her as close as he could possibly could to him.

"I won't." His lips aligned with his heart, telling her this promise. His mind knew that he couldn't stay, Lady Catelyn will not want him here with his father going South. That woman always had him running and angry ( sometimes crying ), but a shock of bravery stung through. If Amara needed him, he was not so willing to leave her. Of course, this might've been thinking much too far along. Her pleas could've been for just now and not forever, he grimly realized.

Her weeping did end eventually. He held her until her body relaxed; her hands that were previously gripping onto his back had slacken, and slowly drifted down onto the floor. He pulled away some, eyebrows lifted, to fully see that she was repose. He moved her so that her head was being supported by his arm, his other hand free and ungloved to wipe away the tears stains on her face. This girl, a walking paradox, was asleep in his arms arms now. He first met her as a cool, calculating young healer with a heart that nurtured for children. Only to end up coming to find out how truly warm, mischievous, and childish she was underneath. The night before he had seen a callous side and now a girl who felt overshadowed and weighed by the stress of high expectations of her. How could she be so many things? How could he be hoping to see more?

He carried her to his bed, not wanting her to sleep on the floor even if he didn't mind sitting there with her. He laid her down gently and brought the blankets and furs on top of her. He froze when she moved, eyes squeezing as if she were about to wake, but she simply moved to lay on her side and bury her face into his pillow. Relieved, he sighed and walked towards the door, closing it because he was sure the woman would be troubled if someone had caught her here. The rumors had they seen her in his bed despite her being fully clothed would spread all over. Jon wouldn't want her ruined, people spreading lies that she slept with the bastard of Winterfell. It was hard on her enough that people thought she visited the brothels as a customer and now that? Her namesake would be sullied as a sally through and through and Jon would have none of it.

He ambled his way back to his bed, sitting at the edge of it to keep watching her sleep. Now and then, he'd push her hair away from her face to see that state of peace she had on her face. What kind of dreams did she have? He would wonder. Probably of home and her little brother, those were the things most people dreamed while being far away; home and family. He thought they may have been things of peace she actively thought of and missed entirely. Meanwhile his dreams were filled with him rising above all the harshness he knew. Of a life that wasn't as unfair as he told Arya that the reality one was. His dreams would make him be as great as Daeron I Targaryen, a hero of the sorts to him since he was younger. Although Daeron was not a bastard, Jon didn't mind being one of the few formidable warrior that were. It'll take hardwork and even though he thought he could prove it at the Wall, he made a promise now. His eyes glanced down at the sleeping healer, his smile soft as she wrinkled her nose and knitting her brows in her sleep. Would she be worth it? _'Definitely.'_ He couldn't help but to think.

Jon suddenly went stiff with alert at the knock on his door. His eyes looked to Amara first, watching the twitch of her brow. If the knocking kept on then she be bound to wake, but who could it be? They would catch sight of her in his bed and he already told himself he wouldn't let rumors ruin her. Looking around uneasily, he got up on his feet and walked towards the door with hesitation as his hand laid on the handle. Jon only opened it just a little to catch sight of his brother, "Robb? What are you doing here?" Now he felt mortified. What would Robb say? What would he _think_ most of all? Surely he wouldn't believe that Amara had done more than just sleep here, wouldn't he? Even though his brother thought highly of the healer, would such thoughts end if he had seen her in his room? Jon slid from the small gap and shut the door behind him, bemusing Robb.

"I would've rather us talk in your room than in the hall, Jon." Folding his arms across his chest, his eyes didn't relent on their scrutiny. For a while now, Jon to him had been much more hard to read.

"Nobody is down here." Jon merely blurted out the words, inwardly cringing with how suspicious he sounded just then. "You can say whatever you want here."

Tilting his head, his brows furrowed right then. His Tully eyes looked towards the door, eyes now squint before looking back at his brother. "Are you hiding something?"

"What?" A bit startled how Robb easily jumped to that conclusion, he tried his best to appear unnerved. "Why would you say that?" His eyes quickly looked up to his brother, forcing a smile. "C'mon Robb, why would I hide something from you?"

Robb didn't look at all convinced but he settled seeing as he had no proof to back him up. "I was wondering had Amara come to see you yet." Jon's eyes had lowered uncomfortably, hearing the soft undertones in his voice. "She said she would."

"She did." He answered somewhat truthfully, "She told me of Bran's condition."

"She already left?" Where could she have gone then? He went to her room and she was not there, Austin wasn't in his either, and nobody spoke of seeing her go home. Maester Luwin hadn't seen her, his mother came back to Bran's room and spoke of not catching sight of her. So where did she go exactly? It was like the woman vanished into thin air.

Jon knew he had to think of a lie, and quickly. "I believe she might've gone to the Godswood. She likes to go there."

Nodding absently, he then turned around to make his way. "I wanted to ask her something about Bran." Looking over his shoulder, he gave Jon a wry smile. "You'll tell her I was looking for her if you see her first, won't you?"

"I will." His nod was firm and holding truth. Whenever she awakened, he'd be sure to tell her that Robb had some concerns about Bran. After all, Jon wanted the boy to wake just as much as anyone else. No matter if they were related by solely their father, Bran was still his little brother.

He watched his brother walk down the hall, strides quick. Jon couldn't help but feel wrong, boldly lying to Robb like this. It had to be wrong for Robb would have understood if he explained, right? Yet, he couldn't help but think that he wouldn't so understanding when it came to Amara. It always felt like some sort of odd competition between them with her stuck in the middle. Jon was always tossed aside for his brother but he remained unyielding when it came to the healer. Jon could be without a lot of things, be sad at how things always worked in his brother's favor, but he couldn't this one time and it felt like he was betraying his brother a million times over. Robb had always been good to him.

Going back into his room, he saw Amara still lying in bed asleep. "I'm selfish, aren't I?" Although she couldn't hear him, he couldn't help to ask. "You would be happy with Robb, Lady Catelyn wouldn't mind if Robb married you out of love. And here I am, standing in the way. You deserve more than what I could give you, you deserve better than a Snow. I know it, but… I'm not leaving your side until you tell me to."

Although her eyes remained closed, chest rising and falling to show she still breathed but was not awake, he thought he saw the corner of lips twitched up in a smile.

 **:::**

A month. That's how long time had gone by and there hadn't been a day that Bran had awoken. Her bones felt weak and weary, her heart felt heavier than Valyrian steel, but she still stood long hours of many nights to read anything she could find in efforts to wake Bran. Night after night that wasn't spent with her eyes in books, she spent time with Maester Luwin but all their efforts to shorten the boy's comatose had gone in vain. No matter what steaming medicines they placed under his nose and in his room or spoonfuls of herbs to spike his energy they fed him, the boy still had not opened his eyes. His wolf, nameless as she remembered it be, would keep howling and howling until late hours of the night until morning. It was sad, it didn't give her fear like the direwolves usually did, but his wolf gave her grief instead. He just continued to lie sleep, the healthy look about him becoming less and less by the hours and the days until a whole months had gone where he was nearly skin and bones. The Maester had willingly decided to give up, urging her to do the same. _"It's up to the Gods."_ He would say while making her mind her health and she found her will to keep on trying to wake the boy wavering.

Amara requested solitude for long periods of time. When she wasn't with Austin or walking him to school, she would find places that no one could follow. The Godswood would've been a place she went but it was never empty. Even if no living soul was there, the Old Gods still watched and she felt her vulnerability invaded. Ros would come to see her, sneaking her way since she wasn't allowed to be seen and used Theon as an excuse for her to sneak into the castle. It felt good to spend time with Ros, and she was the one person who would force a spoon in Amara's mouth to eat if she refused. Ros was much more harsher than Jon, who was too passive. Robb's concerns consisted of sad eyes and arguing, which always ended up making them both feel worse by the end of it.

Jon was more than worried but he was grateful she was eating again, but her sleep schedule was still ruined. Her eyes were beginning to have bags but she did sleep more than she had weeks ago. He and Austin would band together, forcing her to take breaks and making try to go out into the sun for she was becoming much too pale than she already was. She argued with them to the point where they either gave up or she did, allowing them to have leisure and short-lived walks with just the three of them. No matter how much he hoped and prayed that Bran would return to them soon, Jon didn't want it to be at this expense. Bran wouldn't want the woman ruining herself like his mother was.

Lady Catelyn wasn't taking proper care of herself at all. Not once had she left Bran's room, not once had she lied in the bed made for her there, and not once had she stopped making her prayer wheel. Often would she pray to the Mother to wake her child; to give her back her special boy, but the Mother hadn't. Maester Luwin kept telling her that the Gods would decide just on their own time, but why were the Gods being so slow, so cruel? They almost took her girl and now her son was crippled and unawake. What had she done to have such things happen to her? It was wrong to question the Gods and so she prayed at the sept for forgiveness in doing so.

Robb was learning how to be a proper lord now that his father would be gone. The ropes in keeping Winterfell together in this adversity was starting to wear down on him too. He hadn't let his stress overwhelm him, he still took care of himself and he stood looked out for his mother and Amara. He was grateful that Jon, despite his mother's wishes, decided to stay and his father supported him. With Jon here, Robb could handle half of Winterfell's troubles in no time. If Jon had planned to go to the Wall as he originally did, Robb feared that Amara would find herself sick and he'd be drowning in responsibilities.

"I said I'm fine!"

Jon slightly flinched from surprise, not used to her being loud ever. Even though it had only been a month ago when she berated herself, he didn't think he'd hear her yell again. Amara had been dyspeptic lately with her trying to save Bran and her own problems; the lack of eating and sleeping. Jon never faulted these fits of anger because he knew she didn't truly mean them. After her outbursts, she would immediately apologize in which he would accept. She had no reason to be sorry, he understood her feelings very well and the toll all of this was having on her.

He had just finished helping Robb with a few tasks since their father and the king were leaving today. Lady Catelyn had told him a great many things upon knowing how resolute he was about staying and it had left his heart on the uneasy side. She had told him, _"Why didn't you go the Wall? For one moment in these past seventeen years I felt I could breathe easier with you gone. Now you convinced Ned to let you stay and Robb as well. I didn't want you here, I never did, and I still don't want you here now. I want you to go! It should've been you lying where my boy lays. It should've been you!"_ Those were her exact words. Jon hadn't told anyone, he just let her say them and continued to stay out of the woman's sight. That last visit with Bran would be all that he would ever get and one he would never forget.

His eyes were watching Amara slowly move down onto the floor, rubbing her legs that were obviously sore through her garb. Her face looked strain from trying to hide her pain and she was much too proud to ask for his help. He learned that when she needed him—more like she was in desperate need of him—would she ask anything of him. And so he stood, eyes observing her until she forced herself back on her feet and flicked through pages in one of the Maester's many paged books. "You're not fine." He argued back for the first time, "You need to eat today and to sleep. Bran's condition will not change, but he will wake. Even the Maester knows that the Gods will bring him back when they are ready."

She whirled to look him, eyes nearly turning into slits with her brows scrunched together. Her fury was usually cold but it had been hot as fire during Bran's condition. Knowing how waspish her tongue was going to get, Jon took a few steps forward and cupped her face to lessen her anger and force her to listen to him. Amara was much too shocked by the actions, lips slightly parted and her eyes looking up at him as wide as they could go. "You have to take care of yourself. Do you think Bran will want you run yourself into an early grave? Do you think Austin needs you like this? He needs you strong _and_ healthy." His eyes remained transfixed into hers, showing how much he meant them. "You have a son that _needs_ you, Amara."

Her expression slowly softened, inch by inch. Her brows relaxed, even drooping some and her lips closed. Her eyes dispersed their anger, taking on a much more doleful look before she closed them, shielding them from him. "I know." Her voice was low, dry and raspy. "It is never good for someone to sleep for an entire month, Jon. I fear he'll never awaken."

"But he will." He persisted, "And you need to be healthy enough to get him through the process too. He needs strong support around him when he wakes."

His words soothed her some, "You're right. I'll go see the girls off and tell your father farewell." She smiled some, "Then I'll sleep, alright?" He felt relieved that she was willingly going to rest; that was the first time in weeks. "Would it be too much for me to ask for you to pick up Austin for me?"

"Of course not." This was the most she had ever been obedient lately. It made him want to thank the Gods but he wouldn't do so in her presence. Slipping his hands away from her face, she let out a quiet yawn before walking towards her room door to leave. "You promise me you'll sleep?"

Rolling her eyes, she gazed over her shoulder. "Yes, I promise. You've been nagging me about it for a while now, it is about time I listened." The look on her face almost reminded him of happier days and he found himself smiling at her just to receive one in return. "Also," A brief pause took over as she fiddled with the handle on the door, "thank you for staying with me and putting up with me most of all."

"I don't need your thanks, Amara. I just need you to keep true to the promise you just made me." He wanted to say a lot of things but he swallowed them as usual. Her eyes shone with happiness then and she lowered her head rather sheepishly.

"But thank you anyway, Jon. You make it easier to rely on someone." With hurried steps, she left and Jon's heart warmed at the prospect that Amara would rely on him willingly and more often.

Amara knew how busy it would be and often found herself getting rather lost in the crowds. It took a while but she had eventually caught sight of Arya, brushing the mane of her horse with her face morphed into one of deep thought. How hard must things be for her? Her brother hadn't woken and she'd be leaving her home, which meant leaving Jon, Robb, Rickon, and her mother behind. Amara would dearly miss seeing that wolf girl running about, giving Septa Mordane a headache and the bickering between her and Sansa. Although that would still happen, Amara wouldn't be around to hear it anymore.

The healer walked slow, soaking up Arya's sight since it'd be a long time since she saw her again. Years, probably. When she reached her, Jory Cassel glanced at her and gave her a slight wave in which she returned. He then turned away, giving them their privacy once Arya had looked up and seen her. "Amara!" Her eyes lit up in surprise. "You're here to see me off?"

"Yes, I am." Bending her knees so that she was equally leveled with Arya, she rubbed the side of her slicked back and styled dark hair. "I will miss you."

"Of course you will, why wouldn't you?" Arya's response was rather haughty but out of jest and it made Amara much more happier than that weighted sadness she felt. "I'll miss you too, you know."

Pretending to be shocked, she raised a brow and tilted her head. "Oh, is that so? The great Arya Stark will miss me? There must be two suns in the sky." The girl merely rolled her eyes but her smile never left. "May I hug you, my lady? I fear it'll be the only one you'll be willing to give me." There was not a bit of hesitance in the girl's steps, she leaned forward and her arms wrapped around Amara's neck with her face buried in young woman's shoulder. The healer rubbed her back some, easing her own pain by doting on her before giving the girl a tight squeeze. "I have something for you." Pulling away, Arya's eyes looked at Amara with unbridled excitement as the woman pulled out a rolled up and medium size piece of paper from her sleeve. "You were so interested in those arrows, weren't you? Well how about you practice and make them in King's Landing. Jon told me all about Needle, so why not keep your archery just as perfect as your swordfighting?"

She was given another embrace, a much tighter one too. This one felt more warmer than the first, which made Amara smile since it lasted for quite sometime. Eventually, the young Stark girl finally pulled away as Amara continued on. "When you come to Winterfell, you'll be a swordswoman and an archer. Promise me you'll give me stories of how you bested the rest of them, won't you?"

Small hands wiped away what felt like large tears, "You can count on it!" There was that look of determination in her eyes even as they welled up, but Amara believed her anyway. It was hard not to put your faith in the hands of the girl who refused to be beaten and broken.

"Good, I'll be looking forward to the beautiful and strong warrior you'll be." It was growing hard to accept that Arya would be leaving. The healer's thumbs swiped away more tears that came and mentally captured the warmest smile Arya had ever given her. That'll be a moment she treasured, she was sure of that.

Not too far was Sansa, who Amara planned to bid farewells to as well. With a weak wave, she walked away from Arya to the red-haired girl with blue eyes filled with exhilaration and dreams. From everything the Maester told of Amara of King's Landing, it was the perfect place for a girl like Sansa. It was a beautiful warm place that would be the perfect setting of any fairytale. It was hard to believe that someone was just meant to be a princess and a princess Sansa would be, a lovely one at that. When Sansa's eyes noticed her, she had given her a beaming smile and leisurely made her way over to meet Amara halfway. "You've come to say goodbye?"

Amara nodded in answer, "I'll have you know I will tirelessly bring your brother back first and foremost."

"I know." Her reply was soft, a weak nod following after it. "Don't work yourself too hard for I want to write you letters and send you drawings. You've never been to King's Landing before, so I know you must be interested how it is too."

It surprised her how much Sansa wanted to remain in contact. It left her happy nonetheless and grateful that Sansa wanted to keep their relationship very much alive and strong. Grabbing onto the redhead's small hands, she gave them a reassuring squeeze that seemed more for herself than the young Stark. "I'll be looking forward to them." Her eyes then hardened some, her expression much more serious. "But can I give you a piece of advice, my lady?"

Confused, she nodded rather slowly. "What is it?"

"The world will be unfair to you more often than not." Giving the girl's hands another squeeze, she had hoped that Sansa could stay as she was and blossom to the woman she was meant to be. "But because the world is callous that doesn't mean you have to harden your heart and become the same. The world can make you strong and when the time comes, embrace your adversities and learn from them. Don't let anyone tell you how to be in it otherwise. Your heart knows, your head knows; listen to them."

"Do you fear for me Amara?" Sansa couldn't help but ask, "You always try to give me words of wisdom, but I'm never sure why. I'm grateful that you do though."

"It is because I see much of who I used to be in you." Her eyes lowered in her admission before looking back into Sansa's bright ones, "I had a head full of dreams too once. People like that sometimes learn about life in harsh ways, but I want you to be prepared should it ever happen to you. If I could steer you from some choices that I made then I will be more than relieved."

Sansa stood with her eyes lost in the currents of confusion but then was filled understanding afterwards. Amara had let her hands go, hoping that her words would mean something and would be of future use. After all, Joffrey wasn't the kindest boy. If she knew any better, Sansa would have to deal with his rudeness with forced grace. Sad that a boy as snide would be her husband, but what could be done about it?

She had soon left Sansa with a hug and more goodbyes before making her way to find Lord Stark, who had been leaving the castle of Winterfell just now. He seemed so tired and unsure, but Amara felt that she would miss his presence too. After all, how could Winterfell be the same without its Warden? Even if she found herself lacking a close relationship with him, she did enjoy the brief times they did talk. He was always kind to her, and she would miss that. "Lord Stark, I bid you farewell and safe travels for your journey to the South."

Ned stopped, steel eyes meeting her before giving her a nod. "Thank you, healer. I'm glad to see you outside, how long has it been since you've seen the sun?"

Abash, she lowered her head with her hands behind her. "Not too long."

His lips moved in a knowing, small smile. "I know and I'm thankful that you work hard for my son." It always made her feel good to hear praises from him but it still left her feeling as any other praises had made her feel; small and sheepish. "Rickon is only six and he doesn't know what is happening and his mother is unfit to care for him now. I know I'm asking for a lot, you have Austin and you fought to keep Jon here," Her eyes looked up at him, surprised to see how much he didn't want to overwhelm her, "but he needs someone to distract him from Bran while Robb and Jon keep the castle afloat."

"Of course, my lord. I will take care of him." Her head lowered, showing that she accepted such responsibilities with earnest and a sense of pride. "I need a distraction myself and I think Rickon and my son would be the perfect fit." Trying to make light of the situation, she added, "I've also been nagged at to take care of myself. It's not easy but I will."

"In which you should, healer." Her smile remained and her head move to perform another nod, agreeing with him. "I also want to thank you for convincing Jon not to go the Wall. I didn't want him to go there in the first place, he doesn't have a clue just how hard life is there." Amara noticed that sheen of relief in his eyes despite how hardened his long face remained. "You've been there for him in ways I wasn't able and he will need you now more than ever. My wife could never forgive me for bringing him home but he is still my son and I want what is best for him."

If only Jon had heard his father's words, she was sure he'd be happy. Her smile took a sadder appearance and her nod was rather formal. "Jon has been there for me and so I will return his kindness. You will have nothing to worry about, Lord Stark, for I will do my all here." She bowed to him into which he gave a solemn look of approval. Her eyes followed him as he walked away, never knowing if this would be the last time she would ever see the Warden of the North, the second Hand of the King, before her again.

"And so we meet again."

Jumping, always scared easily, her eyes looked for the source of the voice to see that it was Tyrion below her. Her heart began to rectify its pace as she let out a long sigh, rubbing atop of her chest to help ease its erratic beating. "Gods, my lord, must you always arrive unexpectedly?"

"It wasn't my intention to shock you, but it was quite funny." Oh, how she hated how he looked so smug. It made her frown, giving a quick roll of her eyes, which had made him laugh some in amusement. He didn't let his laugh live long though, soon he took on a much more lighter approach. "You must have your hands full lately. I didn't know you were a healer."

"What did you think I was?" Her brow rose, eyes glued to him in anticipation. It made her wonder what he exactly heard of her or what he must've suspected since he met her in the brothel.

He hummed for a moment before moving his small shoulders in a sluggish shrug, "I didn't have the slightest clue to be honest. I knew you weren't a whore, but then I'd thought you could be a caretaker or a maid, a young one, but one of them nonetheless." Amara accepted his answer, glad he hadn't insulted her. It wouldn't be good for Lord Stark to see her arguing with the Queen's brother on the day of departure. "But I dare say, I'm wondering just how you convinced the bastard to not go to the Wall. Was it a declaration of love?"

Her brow twitched profusely and the heat that was trying to rise to her face was in an intense battle with her pride. Her pride won overall, much to her relief. Her eyes lost their fraction of state of shock and she let the calm waves of her control take over. Her head move fluidly in refusal, "Declaration of love?" She gave an elegant snort, "Why would you say that? I'm afraid you're wrong, I do not love Jon."

Tyrion watched her transformation, nearly in awe at just how quickly she got herself together. It almost made him fear her for a second because she had the same great self control that his father seemed to possess. And to be compared to Tywin Lannister didn't seem much like a compliment, especially coming from the one who suffered most of the man's torment. Though he knew that Amara used this as a self-defense mechanism and not manipulation, "Ah, denial, I see." Taking a gulp of his gourd filled with wine, he quickly wiped his mouth afterwards. "It's not all that bad to be in love." He then shrugged as if to take the point out of his previous statement, "I can easily say that despite my Gods awful experience with it; it is quite nice."

Her eyes slowly shifted to look at him, brows lifted in curiosity but first out of clear resistance. "I am not in denial, Lord Tyrion." Her voice was flat, cold. "Why must I tell you a lie? It would serve me no purpose."

"Humans lie often, especially to themselves." He didn't believe her. Not for a second. She could fool anyone else but Tyrion was not one to be outwitted. "As I said, I was in love before, we all like to deny it once we feel it." Her eyes lightened their weight of their hard stare, becoming much more gentle than scrutinizing. She had followed his eyes over towards the inner gate, looking at the gathering people in thought.

It was hard to have her cover blown but she was much more adamant in keeping her shell expressionless. "I do not love him, my lord." Amara said to him again, trying to be much more believable and much more firmer. Why would she admit to Tyrion Lannister that she had feelings for Jon? He wasn't her friend and nor did she ever think he'd be suited as the perfect confidant.

"If that's what you say." It vexed her how much he openly declared her to be lying to him. "It is alright to love, but I can see why you would hide such a thing. You're smart about it, smarter than I ever was when I was young." There was a sadness to his voice despite the smirk he displayed. He was like her too; hiding their emotions in efforts to keep themselves safe. Just how hurt had he been to be honest yet guarded all at once? Did he not care if anyone knew such a thing?

She replied in kind, her smile small but with the full force of wistfulness. "Love can make you foolish if you let it."

He mimicked her smile. "Now _that_ wasn't a lie." His small finger wagged, concurring with her there for a moment. "But love isn't always controllable. You think you have it under wraps but it finds a way to do what it wants. There's a saying that goes, "The heart wants what it wants." and it proves true. When the heart desires something, there's nothing you can do about it."

It was true. Nobody had control of their heart, not even her. The damn thing was annoying, but it was important; the heart was special. "That girl you loved, my lord." Her eyes closed halfway, feeling the breeze come and send dull chills across her face. "You still love her, don't you?"

A whole minute had passed until he answered. His voice sounded as it was meant to be unclouded, yet you couldn't ignore that sense of dolor that filled it. "No matter how many times I try to hate or forget, I love her more than I love her less."

"You don't feel wrong sleeping with any woman that you can? How can you be in love with someone and lie with so many people?" Tyrion almost adored her naiveté and had to keep himself from guffawing.

His eyes looked to gaze up her, seeing her look out at the distance with no true direction. "There's a clear difference between love and lust, my dear." Her lips frowned at the name but he hadn't apologized. "I merely lust after those women, never love them. I only loved her but you know how it is when it's all on your side and not theirs." Thoughts of Tysha only made him want to drink until he blacked out. He couldn't do it though since this gourd wasn't enough to do the job. "Fucking whores is what I do to forget her, they can have my body but never my heart. She will always have that I'm afraid."

Amara nearly cringed at his crudeness but was too busy admiring his honesty to comment about it. For a moment, her eyes had fully closed and her mind's canvas painting her a vision of Jon. "I must be broken then." She pried her eyes open rather slowly, "When I think of giving my body, I think of giving my heart too."

"Most women do, so don't go thinking you're not normal." It was oddly comforting, his words, that is. "Although I suppose some women can do one without doing the other." The healer immediately thought of Ros. She didn't love anyone and could lay with anyone without her heart getting attached. "You're still young and you seem stunted when it comes to love, but since you're smart enough to know what you can and can't have, I'm sure you'll find a way to separate the two."

"I don't think I want to do that." She found herself smiling, oddly enough. "I think if I give up neither then I'll be alright."

"I feel sorry for the man that wishes to have you then." He smirked out of jest, "Though I know of one and I'm sure he's quite the patient one."

Her eyes moved to look at him in such rapid movement, "If that man is you, my lord, then you can keep on waiting _forever_."

" _Ouch_ , that hurts. You wound me so, healer." He playfully rubbed his chest, exactly above where his heart was. "You are indeed a healer aren't you? Isn't it wrong to inflict pain whether it be physical or verbal?" Tyrion watched as she began to walk away, heading her way back inside the castle. She didn't move with haste, so she could hear him well enough as their distance grew greater.

Taking another step before coming to a complete stop, she hadn't turned back to look at him but he knew without seeing her face that she was smirking right then. "You'll be alright." For the first time, her voice didn't sound as modulated since they've spoken to one another. It was silvery now, showing a much more mellow and sportive side of herself. "After all, you spoke of armor to Jon." Her head slowly turn, eyes looking at him from over her shoulder, "You _must_ be much too hard to pierce." She leaned slightly, being quite impish. "You do all the piercing, don't you?"

He hadn't said anything but gave a defeated, smiling nod as she turned and continued her leave. There were many questions he wanted to ask her but he found that he would save them for another time. The woman had been good company and he could say he left Winterfell in a much happier mood than when he arrived. He would be coming back but he hoped to have just one of his questions answered. He was also curious to know if Jon Snow would still be a coward and Amara would still forsake her happiness. "Youth." He mumbled tiredly to himself, "Well, they still got time." With that, he sauntered his way towards his horse.

As promised, Amara returned to her room just to see Jon waiting with his arms folded as he stood in the middle of it. It almost made her want to frown. Did he think she would go back on her word? Did he truly not believe her? Shutting the door shut behind her, she let out a long sigh. "You didn't believe me, did you?"

"I believed you." His eyes looked her up and down, "But you have a tendency to walk around what you promised, finding all the cracks and runarounds in between. You're crafty, too crafty…"

She nearly glowered at him, "Which means you didn't believe me." His lips trembled, body shaking with a laugh and she found the anger she wanted to keep begin to wither. "I can hold my promises though" His nod was slow, but she knew that he meant no harm by his play. "Here I am now, ready to sleep, and here you are, keeping me from it."

"You're not that good of a liar, you know." Jon surveyed her, watching her fight not to pout as she bawled and unbawled her fist. "You were going to lock the door and pretend you slept. You can't fool me that easily, Amara."

"I wish you would stop figuring me out." As exasperated as she wanted to be, she found joy that he knew her so well. "If you keep on antagonizing me, I'll stop being your friend." With a huff, she turned away from him, arms crossed.

"Is that the best you can do?" Drifting himself forward, he watched as she kept her back to him and letting out a snort here and there and a few grumbles. Austin may have not been her son by blood but he was sure picking up her habits. He eased the distance between them by an arm's length, enough for her to turn around and not be too uncomfortable by the closeness.

Her eyes were smiling while her lips were not. "Are you saying you'd be content with us no longer being friends? You wound me deep, Jon Snow."

"I can be content with a lot of things, but never that." It frightened her, the skip of her heart. It was because it skipped or because while it skipped, her body flushed with warmth, but because she knew the repercussions of feeling such a way. Her body was always genuine, her mind always lying, and her heart teetering the balance of both.

She couldn't gape at him any longer, and so they found solace looking at the floor. The floor did not have those moonless grey eyes nor those lips that pulled up in that smile she began to be very fond of. The floor did not make her stomach feel airy, completely light and at the same time do flips. The floor never left her imagining what life now would be without it and how grateful she was that it remained beside her. The floor wasn't Jon Snow but at an escape from him.

It almost disappointed him that her eyes left their fixated stare from his own. The only reason why he didn't become sour, hoping she had something to say about his honest words, was because of that look on her face. It had been weeks since he seen her smile so genuinely, so happily. With all the stress, it felt good to know that she could find reason to smile. That he was the reason she did.

"I wanted to hate you." He openly confessed, his eyes looking elsewhere as he spoke. "I saw you with Robb in the courtyard the day after I told you I was going to go to the Wall. You seemed so happy; smiling like you had no cares." Amara gazed up at him, scanning his face as he continued. "I was angry because I felt that you wouldn't need me or that you didn't care if I left."

Since the day she begged him to stay, they never spoke about the night of the feast. They ignored it as if it never happened. The healer, rubbing her arms gingerly, had her eyes half closed. "I did care, Jon." Swallowing the lump that was beginning to form in her throat, she tried to think of proper words that didn't give too much away. "I was hurt and Robb made me forget, just for that one moment. Robb has a way of doing that, doesn't he? Making you temporarily forget hurtful things?"

Jon contemplated for a while before giving her a nod, "He does." His admission was low, nearly inaudible.

"But that doesn't mean that I would've always forgot. That wouldn't been something I would've easily gotten over."

Before he could question what she meant, the door of Amara's room opened and they both turned to see Austin. The boy looked tired, unsmiling. Bran's comatose had been so rough on him and he would sit for hours beside Lady Catelyn, quiet but eyes filled with prayers. It surprised her that he had left so early now but maybe the boy had been too drained to keep sitting in hopes that the boy would waken while he was there.

His eyes looked up to see her and Jon, looking at them both quizzically. "Did something happen?"

"No." Jon answered for them both, "How are you feeling? You look tired."

"I am." Amara watched the boy walk over, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Bran hasn't woken up yet and Rickon doesn't want to play. I don't even want to play, how can we play when Bran's not around? Now Arya is leaving too." Both Jon and Amara glanced at one another, both their expressions sad before shifting their focus back on Austin. "I don't feel like doing anything. Nothing feels right."

"Bran will wake, Austin." As assuring as Jon was trying to be, he was starting to wonder if he believed in those words any more than Austin did.

The green-eyed boy looked up at him, feeling Jon's hand giving his shoulder a squeeze. "I know, I know. Mother and Maester Luwin keep on tellin' me that the Gods will give Bran back when they're ready, but I'm tired of waiting."

The healer watched Jon take a seat on the edge of the bed beside Austin. "We're lucky that the Gods still let him breathe." He gave a smile, "They could've took him but they are giving us hope. The fall, most people would've died but Bran didn't die. The least we can do is be patient, we can at least do that."

His words did lift some of Austin's spirits, Amara could tell by the way her son smiled right then. He gave a nod, his beliefs a little more stronger than they had when he entered the room. "You're right. I can be patient, just a lil' bit more.

Tousling the boy's hair, Jon lifted himself to his feet. "I better go help Robb. There's probably more things to do, especially now since Father and the others left."

Amara nodded understanding, walking alongside him to the door. Once Jon stepped into the hallway, she reached for his sleeve and tugged it to grab his attention. "Thank you for cheering Austin up."

Jon smiled as if it to say that it was nothing for her to be thankful for. "I feel what Austin feels everyday."

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 **Author's Note** : This chapter is pretty long. It was not my intention but it'll be a while for the next chapter due to holidays and other personal things. I hope you all liked it. And yes, I know, I'm slow with the romance. It's a slow burn kind of, but it is getting there.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** / wipes tear ) All these faves and follows. My heart, guys. You make my heart so happy.

Demona Evernight: I definitely want to do that sometimes but I have the right moment for that. Sorry, but omg. Wow, I'm glad I updated now. I just saved myself from being eaten.

* * *

It felt only yesterday but it truly had been four. Four days and three nights ago, there had been an attack on Bran's life. Luckily, the worst hadn't happened for Lady Catelyn had managed to keep her son safe, but it was Bran's direwolf that truly saved them both. She didn't come out of the fight unscathed unfortunately, but the wounds were not severe. She would live. It had been only a stroke of luck that Amara was the one to find her with the woman's hands dyed red with her own blood and some of her attacker's on her lips. The cuts in her hands and fingers were deep, so deep that they reached down to the bone. Her cheek was even red from where she had been struck, and it would swell greatly if hadn't been tended to quickly. Amara, in that very moment, had thought the woman looked so fragile yet overpoweringly strong all at once. If there was strength in fragility, that was what Lady Catelyn certainly embodied.

The sight of the scene was hair-raising. There had been an unsparing amount of bleeding from the open and fatal wound; a great missing chunk of flesh in the assassin's neck. Despite her fear of the direwolves, the healer was all too grateful of it for coming to their rescue. It hadn't made her less wary of them however. In fact, it made her eyes train on the heavily whenever they were in her field of sight. She called for someone to come to the scene whilst trying to calm a very startled Catelyn. Jon was the one who heard her by pure chance and he dragged the corpse out of the room. Her only guess of Robb's lack of appearance was that he was still at the library, helping putting out the fire.

Maester Luwin rushed his way too, giving Lady Catelyn milk of the poppy due to the extremity of pain she felt. They stitched her and applied poultice, working individually on each hand to shorten the time. The drink had made her sleep for four days and for four days, Amara never left the woman's side. It had been out of fear that she hadn't left, Amara worried that there would be another person in a coma and she couldn't bear those pains of uselessness all over again. No matter how illogical it was for her to think that the outcome would be like Bran's, nothing surprised Amara anymore now. She had been extra cautious and never regretted being so.

Eventually, the woman did wake. For the first time since Bran's coma, she ate and walked around, letting her skin feel the rays of the sun and inhaling crisp, outside air. Lady Catelyn had requested space though during her time alone, possibly to ponder over what exactly happened and try to find an explanation. In light of things being scary in Winterfell, making everyone seem suspicious and loyalist trying to make safety a priority for the Starks. Amara knew better than to follow the woman around or suggest anything while she was like this. Lady Catelyn was an intransigent person and would be annoyed, greatly, to have someone constantly at her heels.

After a while, she told them to meet with her in the Godswood. Jon was excluded, for obvious reasons, but he would know the details of what was said here for Amara already promised him that. As they attended this meeting, Jon just kept on with the appointments that Robb couldn't fulfill at this meeting and made himself stay completely out of Lady Catelyn's sight as he always done since that conversation in Bran's room.

"What I am about to tell you must remain between us." The Godswood always felt still, but the severity of the situation had made it even more so. It was natural to feel tense right now, for her to want seclusion and so little people around. "I don't think Bran fell from that tower. I think he was thrown."

Amara's eyes went wide at the accusation but she couldn't help but feel it to be true. After what happened three nights ago, how could it not be? The fire, that came from thin air, had a purpose; a reason to be in that moment. It had was obviously an excuse for people to be in a frenzy while Bran remained helpless in his room; alone, asleep, and an easy kill.

"The boy was always sure-footed before." Luwin said to Rodrik, seemingly in alliance with Catelyn's claim. Amara was still lost in her shock, wondering just why someone would want to harm Bran; a little, tiny boy. What had he done to warrant someone to assure his death by assassinating him? It did feel like a repeat of last time, of when that man poisoned Arya under the orders of a bastard by the name Snow. Could it be this Snow person again? Did he want to kill the Starks children that desperately?

"Someone tried to kill him twice. Why?" Catelyn's voice shook with anger, "Why murder an innocent child?" Although her eyes were like ice, there was a flame dancing across them. "Unless he saw something he wasn't meant to see."

Theon looked as startled by the revelation yet was much more curious to stay in state of confusion. "Saw what, my lady?"

"I don't know." The healer lowered her eyes, swallowing thickly due to the woman's words after. "But I would stake my life that the Lannisters are involved. We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown."

For one, Amara hoped that Tyrion wasn't apart of this conspiracy. She rather liked him and especially enjoyed their last conversation. It didn't seem right to think he would be involved either. He just didn't seem to have much of a clear motive in her mind. The Queen? It was possible as well as her twin knight. Then there was the whole lot of them ( the Lannisters ) that were squires and other rankings that had to be taken into consideration too. There were too many people to easily point the blame on but none with evidence against them yet.

"Did you notice the dagger the killer used? It's too fine a weapon for such a man." The dagger that the assassin wielded was in Ser Rodrik's hands. Amara glanced over at it, watching him unsheathe it as he gave them a detailed description. "The blade is Valyrian steel, the handle Dragonbone." He slid it shut in its scabbard, "Someone gave it to him."

"They come into our home and try to murder my brother." Her eyes slowly looked over at Robb, pained by the expression he wore but unable to pin the entire blame of the Lannisters like they did. They had no idea who really done it and so how they could throw blame? The Starks had their issues with the Lannisters but she had none, so she could not be so blinded. "If it's war they want—"

The healer stiffened at the mention of war. War? Nothing good ever came out of war. You would think her main fear would be about how much she hated taking care of soldiers or how frightening it would be to be in the middle of it. Yet, all her mind could really focus on was that Jon could die. After she begged Jon to not go to the Wall, to stay here in his home of Winterfell, how could she allow him to go to war? ' _No!'_ She thought, loud in mind but silent outside it. She would not lose Jon like this. If there was something she could do, something that she could say, then she was absolutely willing and bold enough to do it. But what? What could she do or say? A simple no wouldn't suffice. Her head felt heavy and overwhelmingly empty. Amara had to be quick about this or she'd lose the very thing she wanted to desperately keep close.

Theon was all too eager though, feeding Robb's fury of vengeance. "You know if it comes to that, I'll stand behind you."

"What?" Luwin wasn't convinced nor enthused. He kept his calm unlike Amara who stood with eyes big, searching in a frenzy, and her heart about to give itself out. "Is there going to be a battle in the Godswood, hm?" For the first time, the kind old man looked much too serious. His eyes were narrowing as he spoke to Robb with his usual modulated voice, "Too easily words of war become acts of war, we don't know the truth yet."

"I agree with the Maester." The words left her quickly but she did not regret them. Amara had already gathered her composure before she said it. She stood pertinacious with her expression quite void of anything but her resolve. All eyes were now on her and the only kind ones seemed to be Luwin's. Amara looked at each and every one of them without fear or letting herself feel weighed by their stares, "He is right. We do not know the truth." She applied pressure to his point, "Lady Arya's life was in danger before, was it not? How do we know if it isn't the same man? We cannot forget that."

"I've _never_ forgotten that." Catelyn's eyes looked sharp like the edge of the dagger in Rodrik's hands, which made Amara go rigid and almost wished she kept her mouth closed.

It wasn't something she could bring herself to do though; being quiet and cowardly subservient at a time like this. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she looked back at the woman, unruffled. "I know that, Lady Catelyn, but I just fear for you. You could have died and the last I, or anyone else, would want is for you to be put in danger again. We also have to consider the fact that many people have come to Winterfell as of late. We cannot be all too sure of who the dagger truly belongs to."

The Tully-born woman had softened her icy gaze before giving an understanding nod. "I thank you for caring about me, Amara, but trust me when I say that the Lannisters cannot be trusted. You do not understand that much about them so I see how unbiased and pure in thought you are."

"Not to mention she has taken a likin' to the Imp." Theon casually threw in, practically throwing her under the wagon. "I saw you talkin' to 'im as he was 'bout to leave."

As much as Amara wanted to give him a glare, she didn't allow herself to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she remained calm and honest, which was all she could really do in a situation like this. "Lord Tyrion is unlike many people." Her dislike for the word "imp" was made clear in that, "But he has been kind to me since I've met him. Although our conversations have been short and few, he does not seem the slightest bit of suspicious in my eyes." Folding her hands, she straightened her shoulders a bit to appear more poised. "I could be wrong, I openly acknowledge that. Lady Catelyn is right about me not knowing the history. I am foreign, it was never ingrained in me to learn the stories and songs of Westeros. So I am truly ignorant, of that can be said and confirmed true, but I think I'm quite capable of reading people well."

The ward wasn't all too enthused by her defense. Instead, he frowned some before looking back at Robb, who was giving Amara a rather questioning gaze. It was as if he wasn't fond of the idea that she had come to Tyrion's defense. "I'd like to think the same, Amara, but you never be too sure of anything nor anyone in this world." Luwin said, showing her his support. She smiled at him some before he turned his head to look back at Catelyn, "Lord Stark must be told of this."

His statement was met with doubt, "I don't trust a raven to carry these words."

"I'll ride to King's Landing." Robb quickly offered.

It was a good thing his mother didn't agree with it. "No, there must always be a Stark in Winterfell." Unfortunately, what she replaced him with didn't sit well with them either. "I will go myself."

"Mother you can't—"

"I must." Once she insisted so fiercely, you could not convince the woman otherwise.

"I'll send Hallis with his guardsmen to escort you." Rodrik said, the safety of the Lady Stark was paramount, especially if what she suspected was true.

Not liking the measures, she refused to that suggestion. "Too large a party attracts unwanted attention. I don't want the Lannisters to know I'm coming."

"Then let me accompany you at least." Ser Rodrik insisted, "Kingsroad can be a dangerous place for a woman alone." Catelyn looked to Luwin, who gave a quick nod in approval. With hesitance, she nodded too, seeing that this would be the safest thing.

"What about Bran?" Amara could hear the shakiness and how unnerved he was. Robb was Lord of Winterfell now and also a worried older brother whose mother who was going to venture dangerously to King's Landing. All of this was a bit too much for him but Amara could find no words to make his nerves easy. It was his responsibility now, that was all that could be said as nothing could be done.

"I have prayed to the Seven for more than a month." His mother's eyes steadily looked into his own, "Bran's life is in their hands now."

Robb's expressions changed, acknowledging the reality of it all. "Above of all," Amara cleared her throat as she spoke up, "we must assure Lord Bran's safety. If there was one killer, who knows if there could be more."

"You're right." Catelyn nodded, her eyes looked back to her first born. "So long as my husband is away, my son is the Lord of Winterfell." Both women kept their eyes fixated on him, "You must give the orders to Hallis."

Straightening his back to make himself stand at full height, he made himself phlegmatic. Catelyn felt a flush of pride at her son as he told the orders that he would give to Hallis. This was all a test run to be approved by his mother. "I'll put one guard in the sickroom, night and day, one outside the door, two at the bottom of the stairs. No one sees Bran without my warrant or my mother's."

"You must have it done now, my son." She urged him, "But before you do—"

"I'll also let his wolf stay in his room." He quickly suggested and his mother's nod was much more fervent, agreeing to that.

"Yes, do that." Catelyn wholeheartedly agreed.

Amara saw the look that Luwin and Ser Rodrik gave the eldest Stark. It was as if they saw the full transformation of a boy to a man. Not just any man either, a lord was now before them. All their eyes were glittered with satisfaction; inward approvals locked behind closed, unsmiling lips.

"I want your oaths." Lady Catelyn suddenly demanded, making everyone draw their eyes on her. "This is all theories, not truth. If even part of what I suspect is true, Ned and my girls have ridden into deadly danger, and a word in the wrong ears could mean their lives."

"Lord Eddard is a second father to me," Theon said, chest out with voice filled with conviction. "I do so swear."

"You have my oath," Maester Luwin gave a nod.

"And mine, my lady." Ser Rodrik added.

Lady Catelyn looked to her son, seeing as he hadn't spoken up so quickly like the others. "And you, Robb?" All her son gave as a nod of consent, but then all their eyes found their attention to the healer. "Amara?" The girl nearly jumped at the mention of her name. She wanted to tell Jon about this, but since he was not here he couldn't swear an oath. It was just her, only her, to be the bridge for him. Amara's eyes looked up to the bright eyes of Lady Catelyn's, her feet shifting to show her discomfort as she stood. Their eyes were locked, both trying to read the other, but it was Lady Catelyn who found herself finding the answer in the girl's eyes. "You want to tell _him_?" Him was perfectly enunciated since they all knew who this "him" was.

"He should know." Her voice was quiet, holding not a single will for argument but a surprising lack of confidence. "He is the Young Lord's brother, he loves him, and he wants to protect him as much as anyone else." It didn't make her feel good but she had to say it, "After all, it was he that helped saved Lady Arya too. He played a large role… Without _him_ I might've never found the cure."

Robb's jaw set, wondering if his mother would deny the facts. Although he was not happy with the way Amara had presented it, throwing it in his mother's face what Jon did, he knew how unfairly harsh she was to his baseborn brother. Lady Catelyn's eyes turned gelid and Amara bit the inside of her cheek to fight the shiver of the chill the woman's gaze gave her. As much as she liked and respected the woman, she would fight for Jon as hard as she possibly could. It might make them strained. It might make Lady Catelyn not like her or even hate her, but Amara felt the risk rather worth it and she'd do it a hundred times over.

"Fine." Taut was her voice and the ice never left her eyes, "Be _wise_ how you present it."

"Of course." Amara lowered her head in a compliant manner. Lady Catelyn looked her over, a deep frown frozen on her lips, just right before leaving. Her hands were fisting the ends of her skirts as she walked back towards the castle in a march with Ser Rodrik and the Maester following behind her.

It was silent, for a moment, until Theon felt the need to speak. "You might've thrown yourself in the river with that one, Amara." It was as if he found something entertaining about the situation or the position she put herself in. Amara hadn't let it bother her as she normally would, she just kept her eyes staring blankly at the ground that was covered with leaves all around. Her mind was too busy thinking and her body was feeling waves of relief that she had pulled through for Jon.

"I don't care." Robb noticed how drained she sounded then, the way her shoulders moved in the sluggish of shrugs. Her eyes looked heavy too as if her eyelids had weights on them. The healer still wasn't back to her regular self, it would indeed take a while. She was doing herself right, slowly but surely, but he feared that if the worse would happen she'd be unprepared. In fact, she might just fall out.

"That was bold of you." Robb decided to speak, making her eyes meet his so that she could give him her full attention. "My father doesn't even go against her wishes, let alone me, but you… You know you might risk losing her favor?"

"I. Don't. _Care_." Amara repeated, more steadfast than the tired tone she had before. The new lord was taken aback by the sudden attitude, eyes wide some and lips slightly agape. Even when they spoke as friends, Amara was never presumptuous but it seemed she had nothing to hold her back now. "It is _my_ fault that Jon is here. _I_ am the one who convinced him to stay." Amara couldn't help but to feel guilty. If war were to happen, if it proved true the Lannisters were indeed involved, she would know that it was all on her if Jon were to die. She'd like to believe that the Maester rid Robb of those thoughts completely, but who could be so sure? She wasn't in Robb's head. "What I don't understand is how you and your lord father spoke how grateful you both were that I made Jon stay," Her eyes looked at him accusingly, "but what was the point of it if _I'm_ the only one defending him?"

There was a storm brewing in her eyes, feeling so angry because of her guilt of a possible future for Jon. "Did I make him stay just to suffer, my lord?" Robb frowned, deeply, at how weak in will she sounded but more so out of what she accused him of. It saddened him to see that she thought he didn't care about Jon. He did, he cared about his brother deeply, but he loved his mother. Just like his father, they loved Lady Catelyn too much, which meant sacrificing Jon for her at times. She shook her head, finding some flame of confidence. "No matter, I'll defend Jon. I'll defend him by myself and I'll defend him well. I don't need help. I never did."

With her anger still set in her features, she stormed off, leaving both Robb and Theon in the Godswood. Robb move to run after her but Theon gripped his arm, stopping him from doing so. "You know there's no greater punishment than pickin' at an angry woman, don't you? Let her cool off."

"Why is she angry with me? What did _I_ do?" He questioned, eyes following her until she was out of his line of sight. His fingers combed through his hair in brooding, feeling some type of way now that he recalled her just calling him lord. There'd be no more Young Lord for Robb now or again from her. Just lord, Lord Robb. The difference wasn't drastic but he certainly felt that there was more distance with them now than there ever was before. It also didn't help how cross she was now with him too. What exactly did she want from him? It bothered him to know he made her so irate and there was really no solution.

"You think _I_ know what goes on in a woman's head?" Genuinely confused that Robb asked him, he shrugged his shoulders while his expression was still one in a state of baffle. "I can't even begin to understand what goes on in my _own_."

Robb looked at his father's ward with a rather deadpanned expression, "Thanks, Theon. You've been quite the help." His voice was dripping with sarcasm before he stalked off. There had been a disconnect in his footsteps since he was wondering if he should find the healer or take Theon's advice by leaving her be. He kept going, unsure of where he truly wanted to go. He just had to go somewhere.

"What? Now you're angry with _me_?! Why is everyone so snappy today? Get laid, have a drink! Ain't no use being upset over lil' shit like this."

Amara didn't stick around to even watch the Lady Catelyn leave. In fact, while she aimlessly wandered to cool her head, she found Jon at the stables brushing the mane of his horse. Her lips curled upward at the sight, seeing that he looked untroubled doing such a easy task. Her steps started out fast but then slowed as she thought up an idea. She made sure that her feet were muted against the ground. Of all the times Robb and Jon liked to scare her, her vengeance was long overdue. When she was finally close to him, her dainty hands slapped his shoulders, making him scream with a jolt and drop the horse's grooming brush.

Her eyes squeezed shut in her fit of laughter, head tilted back as he whirled around to face her. She had not seen the menacing scowl he gave, the narrowing of his eyes nor the deep frown his lips made. Her eyes soon opened, her vision blurred by tears that pooled at their corners until she final wiped them away. The stables were filled with whinnys of horses and the sound of the healer's laughter that didn't seem it would end, ever. "Amara!" He practically shouted but tried to control his voice some right after. "That wasn't funny." Jon's face was red like the leaves of the weirwood tree, which made her laughter grow louder and continue. He was so embarrassed to let out such a sound or to show that he could be so easily scared.

Why did life always present the worse of himself in front of her? How come she could never see him after a fresh win in the training ring? Being freshly groomed or something that would make a woman find a man attractive or linger in their thoughts? Right now, he looked like a wimp. Before he was a drunk. Nothing ever seemed to right for him, he couldn't help but think.

"I'm sorry, but—" She was heaving now, trying to catch her breath while wiping away a few more tears that came, "I had to get my revenge. Next time, I'll get Lord Robb."

Her explanation hadn't doused his vexation. He just continued to glare until he found it in himself to get over it, "What are you doing here anyway?" He asked as he picked up the brush, wiping anyway any leaves or dirt that got on it with his leather, gloved hands. "You finished your meeting with Lady Stark?"

Her high spirits certainly died then. Her body couldn't even release another giggle and her eyes lost their lightheartedness. Her smile slowly turned into a thin line and into a unignorable frown. Jon worried by what such a transformation meant. "Mhm, did you see her?"

"She got her horse with Ser Rodrik. Robb, the Maester, Theon and Rickon saw her off." She nodded, "Why didn't you? Where is she going? Is she going to see Father in King's Landing?"

Amara's eyes observed the area once more, seeing if it remained empty with just the two of them. Her hand reached for his wrist, pulling him towards the area where the dogs were and the floor covered with hay. Jon blinked twice as he was forced to sit, the young woman kneeling as she faced him. "Lady Catelyn believes that one of the Lannisters are the one that pushed your brother from the tower."

"What?!" His voice was too loud, making the dogs turn and bark at the sudden volume of his voice. Amara clasp her hand over his mouth, his eyes wide and staring at her before giving a slow nod to say he'd be quieter. She removed it, giving him a hard stare in warning; telling him to not do that again. Clearing his throat, he looked around to see if anyone had heard before he began his question. "Why would she think that?" He finally questioned, voice quieter this time, once he saw it was still just the two of them and the stable animals.

"The woman doesn't trust the Lannisters, _at all_. I don't really know why to be exact, you might know more than I about your family's ill feelings towards them." Amara let out a sigh, gathering a lock of the ends of her hair to twirl around her finger. "They might not truly be the ones who done it. After all, Lady Arya was attacked before too."

Jon had become stern upon hearing her state that fact. He hadn't forgotten how the person who allegedly hurt his little sister was the one who shared his bastard name. "Did you tell her that?"

"Of course I did, but you know _how_ she is." It made her want to roll her eyes with how obstinate the woman was, but what would be the point in doing that? "I tried to explain that to her but she is sure it is the Lannisters. Theon already questions my loyalty since he saw me talking to Lord Tyrion."

"Do they think he is the one who did it?" Jon furrowed his brows, unsure if he could believe Tyrion to be the one to push Bran. It didn't seem right or let alone make much sense.

Amara shrugged her shoulders, unsure of the answer of that herself. "I don't know, really." Her eyes looked around, absently staring at the dogs that laid about. "I hope it isn't Lord Tyrion, I actually enjoyed him."

His smirked some, "He's a funny, little man."

She nodded in agreement, "Indeed, but he also seems nice. I could be wrong… After all, it does make sense that someone pushed Young Lord Bran because he discovered something he wasn't meant to hear or see." The dark-haired Stark crossed his arms, leaning against the short wall of the stable divider while tilting his head. He immersed himself in deep thought, making Amara look at him quizzically. "What? Are you remembering something?"

"You know," He began, "I did find it quite odd that the Kingslayer didn't attend the hunt."

Her eyes widened some, "What? You mean to say that you suspect him?" She had heard that name for him quite a lot during the king's stay. It was until the name made her so curious that she had to ask Ros why they called him that. Ros informed her that he was given the name after he killed the last king, King Aerys II Targaryen or famously known as "The Mad King".

It hadn't made such sense to her, really. Why he was called Kingslayer. If he killed a man that was wickedly cruel, that wanted to burn and endlessly slaughter innocents, then shouldn't he have been praised? Why brand him with such a name? It was as if her mind skipped over the oaths he took as a Kingsguard. The ones that meant that he served his king until his final breath and never betray him. "But don't you find it strange he didn't go?"

"Maybe he just didn't feel like it." Amara shrugged nonchalantly, "Not everybody likes to hunt."

"He is in the Kingsguard, Amara. What if the king were attacked during the hunt?" Jon tried to make obvious to her, "He basically said let the king die by not going."

The recognition of that fact had alarmed her once she truly let it process. Her eyes soon went wide in thought, now becoming more and more convinced that he might've been involved; possibly the one to push Bran since he was so brazen. "But for what reason would he have to hurt him, Jon? That question still goes unanswered."

"Maybe whatever he stayed behind for, Bran caught him." Amara now felt stupid, mainly for not agreeing with Lady Catelyn back there about the Lannisters. "It might be a reach but it doesn't sound much like one when you really think about it. Lady Stark might've just been right about this one, Amara. Something about this makes me feel uneasy."

Gently massaging her temples, growing pained by the overflow of thoughts, she let out a much needed exhale. "And now Lady Catelyn is already gone. I can't even send her a raven about this." Her hands fell to her lap, wanting to punish herself with a headache if she were to get one.

"It is all speculation anyway." Jon's hand rested atop of her own, giving her some assurance. "She was already right to be suspicious of them. All we have left to do now is wait for the truth."

"But what about Lord Robb? He should know." She pursued. Withholding a theory like this that might prove true didn't sit well with her. They had to tell someone and Robb seemed like the right person. At least, in her eyes it did.

Jon shook her head, refusing indefinitely. "No, it is all theory, Amara. We can't spread this. We keep it between us until there is proof to our words."

Her smile was quick and less than happy. Laying her other hand atop of his, she made both of her hands give his a gentle squeeze. "Fine."

"Have you eaten at all today?" Jon chuckled as curled her lips in a slight snarl, sucked her teeth, thrown his hand back to his side now that he was beginning to nag. "You fasted for long enough."

"I did eat today." Amara answered matter-of-factly, huffing as she rose her head in delighted conceit. "So there you go!"

His brow rose, eyes somewhat hinting their skepticism. "And just what did you eat?"

"I had a bowl of chicken broth with lots of vegetables." Her smile was jubilant despite her relishing in proving him wrong. "Do you yield, Jon Snow?"

"I do. I yield" He couldn't help but to laugh, "I'm glad you're taking better care of yourself."

His concern had made her keep her smile. "I know you worry for me, but I am honestly getting myself better. I worry for you now to be honest. How many appointments did you have today? I'm sure the Maester gave you a lot."

"Not really." Mindlessly picking up some of the straws off his clothes, he glanced over at her. "The last thing to do, I reserved for Robb. It's about how much was spent for the king's stay. He was always a bit more savvy with coins than me, so he'd do a better job than I could."

The silence that crept up was comforting. Amara felt like in this stillness, this quiet peace, that she could easily fall asleep to, even if it was the stables. Jon's presence had become such an entity of solace that whether he spoke or not, she was blissfully content despite wherever they were. Her eyes openly stared away at him, watching him play with random straws of hay. He was piling them up, making a makeshift house.

"It's odd." She suddenly filled the silence with words, "For a wolf to be building a house made of straws."

Confused, he looked away from his fun distraction. "You're calling me a wolf?" Her head moved in a slow nod, confirming her words. "But why is it odd?"

"There's a story I heard that came from one of the free cities about a wolf that chases after a pig by blowing his house of straws down." Amara couldn't exactly recall the rest of the story or even the meaning behind it, but just remembered pieces.

"Did he catch the pig?" Now interested, he couldn't help but want to know the rest.

"No," She shook her head, "the pig ran away and went to another pig's house." That was it. That was all she knew.

Jon's face made her bite back a laugh because he looked so thoroughly confused and even a little angry for the wolf. "What? How is that even possible? The wolf can surely outrun a fat, little pig."

"I don't know!" She finally let out the laugh that was brewing, "That's all I remember of the story."

"I don't think I should like being compared to a wolf by you." Jon knocked the house of straws with a puff in a way to emulate the wolf. "You're afraid of them."

Her eyes lowered at this, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I… I have have a very odd relationship with them." She confessed, "Wolves symbolize a lot of things to us in Yi Ti, both good and bad."

"Let's start with the good." He suggested, making her shake her head with a grin.

"Wolves are used as symbols for our strongest men." Amara rested her head between her knees, staring at the ground while in thought. "The wolf symbolizes manhood, courage, teamwork, and strength. Only the best warriors of the realm could have the honor of bearing the mark of the wolf."

"What exactly is the mark of the wolf?" Surprised by clash of culture, he wondered if he could one day have it. "What do you have to do to obtain it?"

"You get a tattoo of a wolf's paw on your chest." A clear memory of the paw print on her father's flashed into her memory, making her hold her legs tighter. "A man only gets it when he prove his skill in things like sword-fighting, archery, horse-riding, and wrestling; fighter things like that."

"Then what's the bad side of wolves then?" After hearing that, he had a hard time believing that her fear for Ghost and the other direwolves made much sense. "The reason you're afraid of them, that is?"

"Usually, wolves were never seen but heard in Yi Ti. When you saw a wolf, you might not live to say you did. They would kill our livestock, just ruin our farms." Her voice grew tense, "And they would attack people, young or old. My people became so afraid of them at one point that we even gave them our dead to keep them away so that we had food to survive during harsh winters. We now even made it some sort of a tradition, crazily enough." Jon stilled upon the revelation, watching her eyes narrow in what looked to be anger. "My mother's body was given to wolves. I just can't imagine how they just… How they…"

There was nothing Jon could think of to say. He understood her fear of them now. Her anger towards them too. She may have not seen it but he was sure that every time she had seen the direwolves, she thought of them tearing apart her mother's corpse. If he knew before he would've keep Ghost away, he'd tell the others to be mindful of her pain too. The fact that she hadn't said a word and dealt with them made him feel guilty, especially when he tried to encourage her to pet Ghost.

"I don't hate them." He glanced up to see her pained expression gone, "I know that your direwolves did not do that to my mother, but I can't help but think about it whenever I see them."

"I can keep Ghost away from you. I'll tell Robb about Grey Wind and—"

"No." Able to smile despite the currents of rather sad memories in her head, she crinkled her eyes some in order to add more believability in her smile. "They are your wolves and this is your home. Ghost is a good direwolf, he has never been mean to me. It wouldn't be right for you to lock him away because of my morbid thoughts, Jon."

"But—"

"No." Her voice left no room for argument and he found himself quiet with eyes looking down. No matter how she was able to make that smile, sincere as it was, he couldn't gather any courage. Now that he knew the harsh truth of her fear, he knew he would never be able to stop thinking about it. He would look at Ghost now and then and see Amara's pain.

It almost made her wish she kept her mouth shut. Now he'd pity her, fret over her adamantly about it. Although it felt good to have that off her chest instead of hiding her feelings, she truly wished she hadn't said it.

"You know," She watched him lift his head to look up at her, "do you ever realize how grand our dreams are when we're young and how average they get when we get older?" She decided to change the subject, and she hoped he'd follow along.

His head moved in a rather slow nod, understanding completely what she meant. "I wanted to be like Daeron I Targaryen when I was young."

Amara couldn't say she recalled him. There were many Targaryens, far too many for her to remember every single one of them. "Who was he? What did he do?"

Jon was surprised she hadn't known about him at least. Maybe she didn't know too much about Dorne either, "He was the eighth king, only four and ten when he was made to sit the Iron Throne. He conquered Dorne at such a young age too. His councillors didn't believe for a second that he could do it, especially since even Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives failed twice. They had dragons and couldn't even conquer the city, so how could a boy king with just a throne do it? But guess what he told them, his councillors I mean?"

"What?" Amara echoed, curious and unable to figure it out much for herself. "What did he tell them? Get on with it."

Smirking at this, he recalled the memory from the book he read. "He said, "You have a dragon. He stands before you." He created the best war strategy and the war only lasted but a year. He made the Dorne lords bend the knee and unite all seven of the kingdoms."

"Wow," She mumbled, "but I suppose his glory ended while he was young too, huh?"

Jon's smile lessened some, his nod quite solemn. "That's why my Uncle Benjen thinks King Daeron is not so idol worthy."

"Does glory really mean that much to you?" Amara couldn't help but ask. She'd never forget his words: _"Bastards can become something at the Watch."_

He was quiet, thinking of how he should answer her. If Jon could truly have what he wanted, he'd feel nothing but guilt and contempt for himself afterward. She couldn't understand that. Nobody but bastards could understand it. If she couldn't give him empathy, would she look at him and say that it was stupid to want to be known more than Ned Stark's bastard? A reminder of when honor didn't really cross his father's mind to put his seed into some woman. "It's more than just glory. It's about having a name for myself than living in my father and brother's shadow. Every man wants their own legacy."

She gave a nod, understanding it from that light. It also made her feel remorseful too, now that she had taken that away from him. Jon could've become something that he was proud of but now all he would face is more of Lady Catelyn's scorn, his brother being Lord of Winterfell, and his father being Hand of the King. Jon may have helped around here, but who would say that he was good at fulfilling duties in pride? All because of her selfish desire to keep him close, she allowed him to have nothing of his own.

"You could go to the Wall, Jon." Amara couldn't look at him, she was too ashamed to. "You want to go, so why don't you? I don't need you here anymore. It's my fault that you stayed."

Her words did sting but the pain was small. Unlike the time when he first told her he was going, he could see how affected she was this time around. Her eyes wouldn't meet him, her voice didn't have an ounce of sureness. "I already promised you I would stay."

"You don't have to keep it anymore; you've already fulfilled it by staying when I needed you most." Usually she would put up a stronger fight, and she wasn't sure if it was because out of her wanting him to stay or because the guilt was too enormous.

"You may not need me now, but Robb does. My family does." Jon looked so sure, like he knew that staying was the best thing to do. "If the Lannisters are involved with Bran's condition, you never know what could come out of getting our justice."

"Lord Robb spoke of war." She blurted out, "Luckily the Maester calmed him."

His expression did grim some, eyes looking away in rumination. Amara hoped that he would disagree, that he wouldn't side with Robb on this. "It might just come to that." Her lip trembled but she bit down it to cease it. Amara eyes glassily forcing themselves to look elsewhere, forcing them tightly closed to stop any tears from falling. "For now, we don't know."

There was too much blood already on her hands and now it was up to the Gods if Jon's would be the next. _'The Lion-of-Night hates me so.'_

 **:::**

It was by the grace of the Gods that Bran had woken. The boy would live, crippled, but still alive. Amara could remember the tears of happiness that left Robb and Jon's eyes, and Bran smiling at Austin who nagged and nagged at him with tears falling out of his too. It was the greatest sight despite her wishing Lady Catelyn returned to see the boy with his eyes open. Rickon had abandoned her to be with his brother, which she understood and took no offense to. Amara was simply glad that the boy found his way and even found a name for his direwolf. Summer was its name now and Summer seemed to be the happiest wolf alive to see his master awake. There was a happy mood for the first time in such a long one, but it would end. Happiness never stayed for very long.

Even now as she watched from boy's room door, she listened to the conversation between Austin and Bran. Austin visited every day, vigilantly, but only after school. Amara hadn't been strict about his two-hour reading sessions since his friend just woke from a month and some days long coma. She would encourage Bran and Austin to read together, to which Bran didn't seem all that happy about. His moods would swing without caution, but what was to be expected? He couldn't walk, he couldn't climb, and so he was miserable lying in bed. All Austin was a distraction to him now and she saw the looks of envy as Austin moved about and gathered anything Bran asked of him.

"Austin," She heard the young Stark say.

"What?" She could've smirked at how his eyebrow rose in question, a blatant look of confusion on his face as he wondered what Bran was calling him for.

"Will you still want to be my friend?"

It had gone quiet and Amara felt her heart sunk. "What are you talking about, Bran?"

"We can't go on the adventure like we promised anymore. We can't do anything we usually do either. I can't walk, Austin. I can't do anything. I can't climb, I can't play in the Godswood… I can't do anything but lie here!"

"You really miss climbin' that badly?" Austin asked, his green eyes staring straight at Bran's.

"It's stupid, isn't it? Climbing is what got me like this but I miss it."

The blond shook his head, "It's not stupid." He shrugged, "It was somethin' you loved, right? Mother says the things we love can sometimes hurt us. Just because you can't do all that beside me anymore, doesn't mean I'll stop being your friend. You know, I can carry you on my back and we'll climb and run. Do whatever. We can go anywhere together still."

"On your back? You can't carry me!" Bran seemed almost flustered by Austin's bravado, but he couldn't help but to keep his smile.

"Yes I can!" Confident as ever, Austin puffed out his small chest. "Lord Robb and I have been sword practicin' for a long time now. My arms are gettin' bigger, y'see?" Rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, he showed Bran his skinny arms that he swore were swelled with muscle. "I'll be really strong, strong like Lord Robb and Jon. Strong enough for us to go anywhere and me fightin' everything that comes to harm us."

If it was possible, Amara's love burned more intensely for her son. She loved him but she loved him even more knowing what a fine man he was growing up to be. "I'll always be your friend, Bran." His voice softened some, lips still smiling. "You can't get rid of me that easily!"

She turned, ready to leave them, until she had seen Maester Luwin and Hodor coming up the stairs. Her eyes gazed at them curiously as Hodor smiled his usual, huge grin. "Hodor!"

"Hello Hodor, how are you?" She replied kindly, knowing he'd repeat his name again. He was a sweet giant, proficient in work and gentle.

"Hodor!" He replied, much more cheerfully this time. It must've meant he was doing well and that was enough to make her happy.

Her eyes then looked to Luwin, "Maester, you're here to take the Young Lord somewhere?"

"Ah yes," He gave a nod, "we have visitors. Were you made aware that Lord Tyrion has returned?"

Her eyes widened some, "Oh? No, I wasn't." Although she was eager to see the little lord again, she knew that Theon words might've resonated with a select few. If she went to see him, would they think her loyalty ceased to exist? It was stupid to her, she thought, for them to think she'd turn her backs on them for the Lannister. Loyalty was a rarity these days but hers never wavered. "I will go see him."

Luwin did not show her any distrust and he nodded, it was as if he knew she would. She smiled at him and received one in return before going down the steps of the hallway in a comfortable pace. Leisurely making her way to the Great Hall from the Great Keep, she caught wind of words from the semi-opened door. "—But not I, eh boy?"

As soon as she entered, her eyes were fixed at the sight of the accusatory stare Robb was giving Tyrion. "I am not your boy, Lannister. I am Lord of Winterfell while my father is away."

"If you are a lord, you might learn a lord's courtesy." Tyrion was in no way frightened by Robb's stare. He stood still, confident, just blatantly ignoring it.

"Lord Tyrion!" Her voice was meant for distraction, making all of whom was in the room look at her. Jon wasn't there, surprisingly, but she was sure he would be soon. "Nice to see you once again."

"Ah, the healer." His lips moved up in a smile, "What a joy to see you as well. I was almost thinking I wouldn't see be seeing you."

"I couldn't let that happen, now could I?" She joked, just to see his shoulders move as he snickered. At least the tension in the room died a little, but Robb was watching her every move as was Theon. She could ignore them just this once.

Hodor, Bran, and the Maester had entered the Great Hall. Tyrion looked at him in dimmed surprised, "So it's true, the boy lives. I could scarce believe it. You Starks are hard to kill."

His joke was a little insensitive, but Tyrion had no idea that his family were suspect number one. Amara was still unsure how to handle the information of Jaime being the one most likely to have hurt Bran. Jon made her not say a word for it was just speculation, but she had a hard time withholding this information, especially from Robb.

"You Lannisters had best remember that." Her eyes shot to look at Robb, seeing how cold and callous he was to Tyrion. It was strange seeing him act this way. "Hodor, bring my brother here."

Amara glanced at Hodor, smiling as he said the only word he seemed to know and make his way forward. He placed the small boy in the high seat fit for the Lords of Winterfell. It should've been odd to see such a young, fragile thing in a seat of power until she realized her brother was the same. There was never a time where she couldn't see anything and not see Naran along with it.

Her eyes cut to Robb, glowering almost as his animosity seemed so pointless. She understood it but she could not condone it. "You said you had business with Bran. Well, here he is, Lannister."

"My lord, there is no need for such hostility." Amara hated to be presumptuous, especially to Robb, but she couldn't allow him to be so bitter to someone who was yet to be judged properly.

"Hostility?" Robb echoed, his brows straightening and his eyes having this gloss of ice in them. _'Just like his mother…'_ She couldn't help but to think. "I believe you read me wrong."

She didn't look away, she held her gaze for a solid minute before looking back to Tyrion. He seemed amused, possibly by the fact that she so boldly in his defense despite her loyalty to the Starks. "You better not speak unbiased truth, healer. It might get you harmed." Her brow raised, slightly surprised that he was forcing her hand in letting Robb do what he wanted. Why wouldn't he allow her to come to his defense?

"I suppose." Finding no need to go against his wish, she lowered her head and folded her hands in front of her. It was a mousy gesture in such a situation but it was her favorite. It was her go to.

Tyrion turned to Bran, both his eyes fixated on him in deep observation. "I am told you were quite the climber, Bran. Tell me, how is it you happened to fall that day?"

Before Amara could make him back off on such a sensitive question, Bran spoke, "I never." He urged.

"The child does not remember anything of the fall, or the climb that came before it." Why did Luwin give that much information away? Was he prodding?

It seemed as though Tyrion accepted such an answer, "Curious." Was all he could say.

Robb parted his lips to speak, but before he could utter the words, Amara spoke instead. "Lord Lannister, what really brings you here to see the Young Lord?"

The Lannister saw her forced smile, the way her eyes seemed to say _"focus on me"_. He had to give her credit, she really did look out for Robb, even when he was undeserving of her help. "I bring a gift for the boy." He smiled some, "Do you like to ride, boy?" He asked the young Stark.

"My lord, the child has lost the use of his legs. He cannot sit a horse." The Maester explained.

"Nonsense!" Amara's head moved in a curious tilt, "With the right horse and the right saddle, even a cripple can ride."

"I'm not a cripple!" How could he not be hurt by those words? If only Tyrion was a bit kinder…

"Then I am not a dwarf." But what could Amara say? The Lannister lord was quite blunt, too blunt. "My father will rejoice to hear it."

Her eyes narrowed some, warning Tyrion that he was being too cruel, too reckless with his words. With the look he returned her with, she could tell that he felt Bran must come to terms to such words in life. There was nothing good out of coddling him.

"The boy cannot use his legs to command the animal, so you must shape the horse to the rider, teach it to respond to the reins, to the voice. I would begin with an unbroken yearling, with no old training to be unlearned." Handing Bran a rolled paper, he gave the boy an easy smile as well. "Give this to your saddler. He will provide the rest."

Bran's fingers moved eagerly, unrolling the parchment and letting his eyes scan all over the drawings. "Will I truly be able to ride?"

"You will. And I swear to you, boy, on horseback you will be as tall as any of them." The healer couldn't help but smile at this. She hoped it was true that it was Jaime who pushed Bran and not the little lord. He was kind as she thought, and she hoped that he remained innocent in all of this. Tyrion and innocent? Such an odd combination, she couldn't help but laugh inwardly.

Robb, however, did not let this act of kindness simply go. In fact, he seemed confused by it. Curious to a certain degree, "Is this some trap, Lannister? What's Bran to you? Why should you want to help him?"

"I received a raven from your brother. Jon." Robb and Amara both seemed surprise, neither of them knowing that he had done such a thing. "And I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things. Where is he by the way? I was hoping to catch glimpse of him."

"My brother," the new Lord of Winterfell began, "is busy with appointments. I'll tell him of your arrival. Though I must admit, I may have been hasty with you." Reeling from shock, Amara turned to look at Robb, "You've done a kindness, and, well…" Clearing his throat some, he took on a much more regal stature. "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours if you wish it, Lannister."

Despite trying to do right, it seemed Tyrion wasn't so forgiving. "Spare me your false courtesies, boy. You do not love me and you do not want me here. I saw an inn outside your walls, in Wintertown. I'll find a bed there, and both of us will sleep easier. For a few coppers I may even find a comely wench to warm the sheets for me."

With that, Tyrion left and Amara found herself following after him until Robb stopped her in her tracks. "Amara, we need to talk."

The stern tone he used made her think this talk would not go well. Her eyes looked up to meet his and she couldn't find anything that could help her read him. "Whenever you wish, my lord." She bowed her head, bearing expression that was a mixture of confusion and chary.

" _Now_." It took everything in her not to sigh. She followed him out of the Great Hall, watching his pace since she walked behind him. He was definitely tromping, which meant she might hear an earful. _Might_ being a rather hopeful term.

He led her to the Library Tower, which hadn't been completely finished since the fire. There was still work to be done but it would give them space to talk without someone listening since the workers would leave on his command.

Once they reached it, the room was emptied of all who was still repairing the damages. Robb quickly turned to look at her, studying her with his piercing blues, before he decided to speak. "Why do you defend Tyrion Lannister so much? And why do you support him more than you support me? How could you, my friend and a physician of Wintertown, show more loyalty to him than your own lord?" The accusations were flying out of nowhere, and she found herself completely stunned by the end of his questions.

"I defended him because you were in the wrong, Lord Robb." She spat, getting over her shock as well as annoyed by how he seemed to be pinning so much unnecessary anger on her. She would've sided with him had he not been so judging and damning to Tyrion, who she was sure had nothing to do with Bran becoming crippled. "You've judged him without evidence and you're acting so suspicious. I'm sure Lord Tyrion will want to wonder why you seemed so rancorous. You leave no air of mystery, not a single ounce of aloofness. How can you let your anger and suspicion be known at the gate? And what if you're wrong? You're making an enemy out of the wrong person!"

He pondered her words, his expression fighting a look of thought and vexation. He didn't know whether to be angry or see her point, but she knew how stubborn Robb could be. Letting out a long, tired sigh, she shook her head. "I cannot believe you would question my loyalty most of all." Her frown was apparent, her eyes half-lidded in a distressed look. "I would expect that from others, but not from _you_. When have I ever not been on your side, my lord?"

"Today, right now, when I needed you." In some ways, Robb did feel guilty about it but he was too infuriated by her friendship with Tyrion. Her friendship with him would certainly get in the way of her judgement, he knew it. Still, seeing her flinch as if she had been slapped just from his words did make him feel wrong. He fought not to frown as her eyes stared menacingly at the ground. The times where he wished she would've forgotten her place, forget their rankings, she continued to hold tightly to the grips of propriety even in anger.

Clenching her jaw, she made sure not to bawl up her fists. She forced a smile then, one that was too painfully obvious. "Then I shall take my leave then." Amara said rather cheekily, "I'll be returning to my home. After all, there is no need for an unloyal person in your presence, Lord Robb." Turning on her heel, she wiped away her forced smile and glared at the the library tower door.

"Amara, why can't you understand where I'm coming from? How would you feel in my place?" He watched her, hesitant and still, but proudly aiming to take her leave. He was sure he wasn't going to get an answer but she was being polite enough to listen. He couldn't force her to answer him, even if he was a lord. He wouldn't force her to do such a minimal task. No matter how much his brain was rattling, truly wanting to know what was going on in her head, he couldn't do that. He wondered if she ever left Jon so thoroughly in the dark. Part of him grimly knew that she wouldn't; only would she do that to him and everyone else.

As he suspected, she didn't give him an answer. Amara left him by himself in the library, mulling over what just happened. She made no move to turn back or give him a clue. Confused, angry, and in the dark is where she left him.

Jon had saw her rushing through the passageway in a rather indignant haste. She probably wouldn't have notice him if he hadn't grabbed her arm, making her eyes shoot up to look at him with the fire in them still ablaze. Lifting his brows, he watched as her temper simmered for just a moment and a sigh escape her. "What happened? What's gotten you so worked up?"

She wanted to say _"your stupid brother"_ but the words wouldn't leave. No matter how vexed she was with Robb, she couldn't find it in her to insult him. "You need to speak with Lord Robb."

"What for? Are you that angry with him?" Still confused, and having no clue why the two would be at odds, he then looked down the passageway. "I was going to see how the repairs for the library tower were going, are you saying Robb is there?"

"He is and he is alone." Jon had let go of her arm, not wanting to keep her long if she didn't wish for it. "He thinks I'm more loyal to Lord Tyrion than I am to your family." Crossing her arms, her eyes began to flame anew as she was recalling everything back, only adding more to her fury. "All because I didn't agree with his behavior."

"His behavior?" Still puzzled, lost at what was being supposedly explained, his eyes were squint and his brows furrowed.

Not in the mood to explain, she simply grabbed his shoulders and forced him to turn. With a push, she watched him stumbled forward before looking back at her, "Just go talk to him." With a small smile, she turned to leave him and continued on her way.

Jon looked towards the library door, sighing as he did. Why did he have a feeling that this conversation was going to be dreadful? His steps were rather slowly as he opened the door to find Robb, sitting at one of the tables with his fist pressed against his cheek. He looked to be reflecting on something, angrily so. "Robb." He called him and his brother looked up at him briefly before looking away.

"I'm sure you've caught wind of our argument." Sitting upright, he laid his arms on the table as he flexed his fingers. "Or did she come running to you?"

"Actually, she was so pissed that she didn't even see me." He watched Robb break a smile somewhat but then hardened his face again. "What happened?"

"I have doubts." Robb said, "She has taken a liking so much of the Lannister that I'm afraid her judgement is clouded."

"I guess you can say mine is too." Grabbing a chair, Jon sat from the other side of his half-brother. "I take kindly to Lord Tyrion as well. I can even say I see him as a friend."

Robb didn't like that answer. In fact, he was hoping that Jon would completely side with him too. Yet both the people he swore would stand beside him were both friendly with Tyrion. "That's why you asked him to help Bran?" Jon nodded in reply, "But would you chide me and side with him in front of all my men, the Maester, my father's ward, the Watch, and my brother?"

He didn't expect that. Jon knew how neutral she had been about the arising conflict between houses, but he didn't think she would openly prove her impartialness. Now he could see why Robb seemed so skeptical of loyalties. Although Jon knew Amara was with them, she sure didn't reaffirm it for Robb in that regards. "They have an amity, Robb." He wasn't sure how to explain it properly, but he decided to chance it. "And I can believe you being unreasonably harsh towards him, which is why she sided with him. We suspect the Lannisters, I know; Lord Tyrion was in Winterfell when Bran was thrown, but he wasn't the only one."

"Its because I don't know! I can't trust a single Lannister, Jon. How can you?" Robb couldn't help but ask, "What if he was the one? Bran is your brother too."

"You think he would throw Bran from a tower and then come here afterwards to stay and give the boy he maimed schematics to ride a horse upon my request?" Jon rose a brow, questioning his brother's convoluted logic. "The man is smart, but I don't think he's that crafty nor fearless enough to take such risks."

For a second, Robb felt doltish but then shook his head after the strike of thought, seeing another vantage point. "Then we wouldn't suspect him. This could all be working in his favor. It would shake the blame from him, wouldn't it? After all, he'd seem holy if he did all of that for Bran."

For a moment, Jon thought he had a point and had to ponder it. Still, he couldn't exactly see Tyrion being so cruel to Bran in such a way. The man was a bit cynical at times, surprisingly compassionate, and so to think of him just one way would be considered foolish. No matter how many ways he looked at it, he couldn't fault his brother's wariness. He had every right to be, but Jon held true to that it was best to not tell Robb that he felt the Kingslayer was the culprit. He had no proof. He couldn't charge his brother up with just theories.

"You're stressed, Robb." Jon went onto say, "You may have been prepared but you weren't expecting to be Lord of Winterfell so soon. We just got our little brother back, your mother is away and we aren't sure if she's in King's Landing or not, and father and our sisters are there; all of them possibly in danger too. It's all been too much plus the appointments and daily things… Don't you think you might need to take a step back and breathe?" Robb was beginning to say something but Jon cut him off, already knowing what it was. "I'm not telling you to take a break, I know you won't, but take a time for yourself and think. You owe yourself that much."

Robb did think that Jon was giving him sound advice. When had he ever had time for himself? The days were long and busy, the days were also harrowing with all that had happened. These past few months had been nothing short of normal, and he couldn't help but to think that months in the future wouldn't be normal nor easy either. He was a man now, and being a man was never easy. There were choices he had to make, a future to plan, but it all just came too quick.

"You're right." His eyes looked up at Jon, his nod slow. "I just need some time to really think and be to myself."

"I'm here for you whenever you need me." His smile was small but the impact was large. Robb couldn't help but to feel a thousand times grateful that Jon was here. In spite of how angry he was with her now, he owed it to Amara for making Jon stay.

"You said she was pissed," Jon nodded in answer, "then I probably shouldn't see her for the rest of the day."

"I say give it three days." Robb rose a brow, "Three days is enough."

"Three days?!" Why did it have such a specific number? Robb was confused and a little worried at that.

His brother sighed, tapping his fingers on the wooden surface of the table. "I went over her home one time and knocked over one of her little flower pots by accident. She chewed me out and wouldn't speak to me for three whole days. She didn't even come to Winterfell within that span of time."

Ah, so she was comfortable with arguing with him? Chewing him out to be exact. He figured the healer got downright verbally vicious with him over her precious flowers. With him, she tried her best not to get carried away and she always kept her words respectful. What was she like in the true essence of anger? Robb couldn't help but to be curious but green in envy all at the same time.

"You two are very close." Unable to look Jon in the eyes, he kept his gaze fixated towards the windows. It would snow soon, he could tell by the way the skies were being filled by a copious amount of grey clouds. Every now and then you'd see a stretch of blue but then it would be gone like you'd never even seen it. "She feels much more comfortable with you."

"I'm a bastard and you're a lord," Robb's sat there rather broodingly, listening to his brother say what he already knew, "there are rules. I've never asked her how different it is in Yi Ti than it is here in Westeros. I suspect there's not too much of a difference of how propriety works."

"Has she even told you of her family? I never hear her speak of them." His eyes looked from the window and to Jon, seeing him in what looked to be deep thought.

Jon began to rub his chin as his eyes remained lowered, "She only spoke of her brother to me." He answered somewhat quietly, "She misses him, that much is obvious. I don't know anything of her mother or father. I don't even know if she was married or not before."

The young lord couldn't help but to think it unusual that Amara never spoke of her family. Did it pain her to speak about them? Did she want to forget them? She had been in Winterfell for almost four months and they didn't know a great many things about her still. Was she hiding her past? "I heard Sansa say she was betrothed before." Jon went rigid in that moment, his eyes slowly looking up at Robb's face to see how stoic he was. "I don't know what happened to him or anything, that's all I really know."

The thought of Amara being almost married before did a number of things to him. Did she love him? Does she still grieve of the loss of marriage? Did her betrothed die? It was wrong of him, but he couldn't help but to feel grateful about whatever transpired at the time. Now she was free of marriage, in Westeros, and here in Winterfell. If she married then Jon was sure that he would've never met her.

"I didn't know anything about that." For once, Robb was surprised that Jon didn't know. He knew more about the healer than anyone else, and to know that he ( more like Sansa ) knew something about her that he didn't made him think that maybe she felt uncomfortable to speak to Jon about her past. "Amara isn't confident about talking about personal things." It took him months to learn about her fear of wolves. Now how could help but wonder how long it would take before could he ask about this man she almost married.

 **...**

Her eyes squinted, looking both ways as she sat in this seedy tavern with Tyrion. Amara loathed this place entirely. The fights were far too often, brutal at most, and some of her late patients came from this exact place. He already had his fill in the Woolly Cat and so she found him here after Ros said he was going here. The way she spoke of Tyrion was far different than when she spoke about him last, and Amara was starting to find that maybe Ros favored him than she did Theon. Then again, what did she know? Ros was fickle when it came to whoever gave her the most money and now she wore a golden Lannister pendant. What would Theon have to say about that? Amara almost wanted to tease him, to knock him a few pegs just as his words did to her.

Tyrion was drinking away, cup in hand, and his eyes staring at anything that caught his attention for a few minutes. Eventually, he moved his eyes upward to look at her, still a bit surprised that she was here and that she actually stayed. Most women didn't like Taverns, only "sallies" came here without fear. They would just work since drunk men could easily spend more coin, "Haven't you gotten in enough trouble?"

"Didn't you know, my lord? Once you've stepped in shit, you might as well keep on walking in it." She was still angry with Robb and his accusations. Not enough to drink some beer like Tyrion, but enough to be almost tempted too.

The dwarf chuckled, a little bit surprise at her cursing. "I did not expect that." He gave her a humored look, brows raised as he pointed his cup at her. "You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You should expect a lot of surprises now days." She subtly warned, glancing around to see if any fights were going to break out as per usual. "You aren't exactly the most loved person in the North, Lord Tyrion."

"The whores loves me." He shrugged, "That's more than enough for me."

"They don't love you enough to save you from the Lord of Winterfell." They both glanced at one another and then gave an agreeing nod. He couldn't argue with that, "I suppose you don't really understand _why_ he's angry."

"I have a feeling that you won't tell me though." Ordering another cup of dark beer, his short and plump fingers tapped against the bar countertop. "You love the Starks, don't you? You most certainly care for them more than me, so why are you helping me and ruining what you have with them?"

"I wish you would stop using the word love." Amara frowned at that lopsided grin he gave her, "I don't love them." She averted her eyes, staring absently at the wall. "But I do care for them but I don't care for them enough to give blind loyalty."

"Fine, you like them, c _are_ for them as you say. Gods forbid you, healer, to love anything." He said sarcastically, making her frown in the process. "But you don't sound like you care too much for the boy lord right now. He gave you quite the scolding after his _warm_ welcome for me, didn't he?"

She didn't want to think about the argument anymore. Every time she believed she was over it, she would rewind Robb's words in her head and get herself riled up again. "You think?"

"Oh, I know." He shook his head, "He seemed awfully angry about you showing any support to me. Then I come to find out Lady Stark isn't even Winterfell. Something awfully strange is going on around here."

"You're not wrong." She shrugged, "But my loyalty is already in question, my lord. So that's all I can say."

"Even now, you still support him." He watched as she gave a weak nod, "You sure you don't need a drink?"

Amara sighed heavily, "Lord Robb is my friend and I care for him deep. I would never turn on him, but I should be able to tell him when he's wrong. He shouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions when it comes to me."

A man had slid across the bar-tops, making Amara move back slightly and Tyrion quickly grab his cup before the man knocked it over. Both of them looked right, heads tilted, just to see the man was still alive and dust himself off before being punched square in the jaw. "My lord, do you _really_ want to drink here?"

"Why not? Its entertaining." The way he so casually kicked back in his chair, feet crossed on the bartop with his cup of beer in hand almost made her scoff. What was so entertaining about two men in a drunken brawl? They barely controlled their fists, they couldn't even keep themselves standing let alone, and yet Tyrion found it all fascinating.

"Your interests are weird and they trouble me." She smirked at his smile, "I'd rather see finesse."

"Ah," He began, "you're looking at the art side, but I'm here gazing at the vulnerability in it. Both these men want to survive, they want to be winners too because then they'll be shamed. Don't you think life is like that? You miss a few hits, get punched a few more. But until the bitter end, you so desperately want to win. You never want to lose because there are too many eyes watching you and they'll be there to pick you apart while you're down."

His words resonated with her, if only just a little. Amara did not want to win at life, she just wanted an easy one; one that she could be happy with until her last breath. She didn't care who was watching, who wanted her to fall, but she could see things that way for Tyrion, for Jon, and even for Robb.

Life was hurting him now and he was desperately trying to win, to prove himself as a good lord after his father. It never occurred to her the stress of what he was going through, she only fixated on Jon. The last time she ever offered words to comfort was when Bran first fell. Now she was beginning to feel wrong, guilty. How many times has someone told him good luck or that he was doing well?

"You always teach me something new." Tyrion glanced over at her, seeing her watching the two drunkards in thought and not disgust anymore.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Did anybody say "liar/no you can't!" when Amara said she could read people well? I mentally did... at my own character.

Am I the only one who is in love with the way Robb/Richard Madden says "What about Bran?" Its weird I know.

Sorry this chapter is so short though, but it answers some things and showing how Robb and Amara's relationships is sailing on rocky waters. Her and Catelyn are rocky too now, but that's to be expected.

It'll probably get worse for Robb and Amara before it gets better. And its about time Jon finds out what Amara is hiding because her past is completely unknown to them. All of them know little things; Sansa knows about Qasar, Jon knows about Naran, and Arya knows her mother was a healer. So nobody knows the whole thing yet, will it be Robb or Jon who finds out? I haven't even decided yet.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** short chapter is short.

* * *

How long had it been since she last had this dream? _'Years,'_ She told herself, mindlessly twiddling her thumbs as she sat at her desk with her eyes blankly looking at the undecorated wall. _'Not since I left Yi Ti.'_ It had been plaguing her mind since she woke up, which upon sight you would've thought she had a nightmare. She was breathless, covered in a thin layer of sweat with her hair as wild as the blankets and sheets underneath her. Amara was glad it wasn't bad enough to make her scream for the last thing she wanted was to wake Austin and give him reason to worry. He didn't need to worry about anything, especially not over her. He had other things to think about, much simpler things like most children.

It still bothered her to know that a dream she once recalled when she was young came back to her. Back then she never understood what it meant and she still didn't understand it now. Dreams were a dangerous thing most of the time, she always thought. They latch onto you like fire, and if you weren't quick then it would consume you until there's nothing left to burn. And this dream, this dream had been brought on by the part of her that craved of going home.

It began the same as it did before. It was her as a child, you could tell since her face had a childish softness about it; round and full cheeks, bigger eyes. Her feet were tiny and being dirtied because her feet were bare. She was running, hair pulled in a ponytail, her clothing a burgundy hued dress being dirtied at the hem. Due to the familiarity of the place she was going, her little legs evaded the trees and jumped over the thickest logs. The hard soil would soon start to feel like mush as she was approaching the wetlands.

The flooded forests was real. It was a place in Y Ti that had become this only piece of solitude and gave her rosy warmth just from the memory of it alone. Sometimes she would swim and other times she would observe the animals that came to bathe and drink. It was easier to find fish that you couldn't find in the river or in the sea here, and she always brought them home. In this dream, she would walk along the tops of rocks, keeping herself from getting wet if she wore clothes she wasn't allowed to ruin. Her father always hated having to throw away the dresses her mother picked out for her.

There was a large cave on the other side, but the mouth of it was larger than any she had ever seen before. This was where dream and reality didn't seem much the same to Amara, especially when she walked inside of it. The warmth of the tropical jungle was gone; there was no summer warmth, just deathly cold air mixed with dampness instead. Drops of water would drip, sometimes hitting the top of her head or her arms, but the darkness of the cave didn't give her fear. She kept moving, kept searching for what was within the confines of this place.

It felt like Winter when she reached a floor of ice and icicles all around of various honess. The soles of her feet were freezing but it wasn't enough to deter her from going forward, not until she saw a pillar of ice with a crystallized egg sitting on its surface. To her, it was the most beautiful thing, and like a child who sees beautiful things, she wanted to keep it. Her steps were slow, cautious that something could be lurking inside this place. Once she was close, her hands now touching the weightless egg, she had brought it close to her eyes for further inspection. It felt like it was made of ice yet the shell of the egg reflected everything like a diamond. It wasn't cold like the ice floor or the air of the cave, it had this warmth that made you aware that life was inside it.

The dream always had her putting it back as if knowing she wasn't meant to keep it, but she would keep turning back as she made to leave the egg's home. Never was she exactly sure if the whispering was coming from the egg or somewhere near by but it would whisper; "Soon in the long Winter, never in the long Summer."

It always made her wonder if that meant whatever was in the egg would hatch and she was destined to meet it again. How would that be though? Specifically with the way things were now. She was no longer in Yi Ti. When she was fifteen, she thought she could run away from her misery, just to foolishly learn that misery could not be outrun for it was within you.

"Mother."

His voice ripped her away from everything, bringing her back to her home and out of her long-winded thoughts; straight to reality. Amara had blinked twice and turn to the door, seeing him standing there at the doorway with a curious gaze. "Austin? You're home already?" How long had she been sitting there, she wondered. Certainly not long enough for the boy to be finished school.

"The teacher had to leave because she was having a baby. That baby was putting up a fight to leave her belly." His explanation made her smile, almost wanting to laugh but she knew he would be offended if she did.

"In the middle of a lesson?" She asked, watching him nod his head in answer. "I hope Lady Crane and the baby are well and healthy."

Austin gave an eager nod, "Me too! Me and the others are hoping to visit her and the baby, when she's better, that is."

"I think she would like that very much." Glancing away from him, her eyes roamed across her desk to see the mess of papers scattered all over the place. This was paperwork on what needed to be restocked at the clinic, and it was more deserving of her attention than that strange dream.

"What were you thinking about though, Mother?" Austin made his way closer to her, standing next to her as she was gathering the papers to align them neatly in a stack. "Is it about work?"

"I was thinking about not doing my work. Lazy of me, isn't it?" She tiredly admitted.

Scratching the side of his head, he rose a brow as he asked his question. "Is that why we haven't been in Winterfell in a fortnight?"

Her eyes widened for a second before slowly looking away from him. How could she explain this? More like, how could she lie in a believable manner about their obvious avoidance? There was no way she could tell him that she got into an argument with Robb and she was stubbornly avoiding him until she wasn't angry with him anymore. Austin saw her as mature and he would certainly be disappointed if he found out she was just being childish and ruining his timing for training at that. "Yes, I'm afraid." She nearly wanted to cringe for lying to him at all, "The clinic is in need of a lot of things and I have to make sure we get them so that the other healers won't have to deny certain patients due to the lack of supplies."

He believed her, for the most part, which made her feel even more guilty. He believed her so quickly and here she was telling him a lie over something so petty. Amara sighed as she watched him, mindlessly purse his lips before his expression lighted up into one of realization. "Oh!" Grinning, his then grabbed one of hers, "Shouldn't we be planting the Snapdragons? You say they bloom in Winter."

"Aye, we should but I need to focus on this first, but thank you for reminding me." Snapdragons were important flowers, they helped reduce swelling and the way things were going, she knew they would come to use should war break loose.

"I can do it by myself! I've gotten pretty good at planting stuff." Austin was eager, possibly bored since there wasn't much for him to do. She also figured he was a bit antsy and wanted to see Bran most of all. The reason why he wasn't complaining was because he didn't like to bother her. Amara couldn't selfishly keep them apart because her issues with Robb, it wasn't fair. She knew that.

Being the parent she wanted to be for him, she caved. "After I finish up a few things at the clinic, how about we visit Winterfell? I'm sure the boys would love to see you."

"Really?!" Amara gave a defeated nod and watched him hurry out of her room to find the seeds. Her head slowly laid down on the desk, wanting to kick herself for not staying away longer. She wasn't necessarily angry anymore, but just stubborn now. In the middle of anything, she missed Jon for it been two weeks since she saw him last; he must've been too busy to visit, she kept telling herself. Tyrion had left a week and a half ago and promised that they should meet again one day in the future. She doubted it for Amara never envisioned of her going to King's Landing in her lifetime. Either way, the short time she spent was him was something she doubted she could forget.

"If I were to suddenly take a nap…" She thought aloud, "Austin would understand that I was too tired to leave, right?" Not only would she lie about that, but now she would pretend to be tired? How low could she go? Possibly lower, for the sake of her pride that is. It was much too precious and she didn't want Robb to think that she was all too eager to see him again. Just thinking of him made her frown and huff. "Calling me a traitor… stupid! You're the one that's a traitor, not believing in your friends when they speak the truth."

Even if she did think about the stress Robb was under, she couldn't find it in herself to totally easy up on him. Amara could be understanding, but not when her loyalty was in question. For that, she could hold onto her anger for a few ways more.

 **...**

The fortnights in Winterfell were hectic and everyone was on the edge, especially Robb and Jon. Before the ravens came, Robb seemed to be taking loads more of responsibilities than he could handle. It worried Jon but Robb always assured him that he was fine and that there should be no time wasted, no time without duties being fulfilled. Jon knew that this was the way his brother chose to handle his stress, even if it probably worsened things. Neither Jon nor the Maester could convince him otherwise and Luwin finally decided that Robb should do as he will. For a minute's time, Jon thought of making Amara come to Winterfell, to convince him to take a break, yet what good would that do? Robb was much too stubborn to go to Wintertown and apologize to Amara and she was much too stubborn to come to Winterfell and do the same. They would rather stay apart, letting distance wedge in-between or lock horns than to come to a level of understanding. Their iron-wills let two weeks past without sight of one another.

There were snowflakes falling, lightly and without warning. Whenever the cold and brittle, ice crystals had landed on his face, he chased them away with a quick swipe just to feel another. It was fruitless but the sting of the chill they gave did begin to annoy him. His soon eyes focused on watching his little brother being strapped into the saddle Tyrion made for him since they were going to let him spend time outside. He couldn't remain cooped up in his room like a bear in its cave during the Winter; he needed outside air, to feel the wind no matter how cold it was. You could say the Starks were immune to the freezing temperatures since it was the way of the North, but even they sometimes needed large waves of warmth. "Are you ready?" Robb asked, enjoying his brotherly duty to join Bran an excursion for fresh air, and possibly hunting.

Bran gave the slightest of nods, which made Jon seem him as a brave, little person. He wondered if his brother was afraid, he knew he would've been in his place, but with the way things are now, could fear really stifle you much longer? Bran was braver than most in a time like this. Jon couldn't imagine all the thoughts going on through his head or the heavy anxiety that took hold of him since the fall.

"Let's ride then." They all lead their horses in a steady pace under the portcullis. Jon kept keeping his eye out for Bran, making sure if he was truly safe in Tyrion's invention. He wasn't too obvious with it because he didn't want Bran to feel incapable. It was just the fact that the horse wasn't being led by Joseth, the new master of horse, or Hodor anymore. Bran was on his own now. If anything should happen, Jon wanted to be right there to save him.

Ghost, Summer, and Grey Wind were beside them, eager to leave Winterfell just as much as they were. Theon was behind them, having his bow and arrows with him. Jon wasn't all that sure why Theon was so set on hunting a deer, but what could be said about it? Theon had strange habits sometimes and Jon was never that close to him like Robb was to really grow used or understand it much. All in all, it was a large group consisting of; Robb, himself, Bran, Theon, four guardsmen, the Maester, and Joseth. All to ensure Bran's safety and for him to spend time with both his older brothers as well as get time outside.

When Wintertown was now in their sight and their horses hooves hitting the muddy streets, Jon wondered if he could catch sight of Amara. Just seeing her once would've sufficed, but he did not see her out of the many villagers that came out to gawk of them. And for that, he felt disappointed. He didn't even notice the way the villagers were staring at the direwolves out of fear and anxiety nor at them bending the knee as they rode by. That hadn't mattered much to him. Robb, however, was lordly as ever and nodding at everyone with proper acknowledgement.

"Where's your woman, Snow?" His body tensed at Theon's words, the Greyjoy was smirking as he spoke. "Its been a fortnight, don't you miss her?"

"She's not my woman." He bit back, but wouldn't answer the rest of the questions. In fact, he behaved as if he never even heard them.

Bran looked over at Jon, seeing the way his eyes settled to look down instead of the road ahead. "Why hasn't she come to visit?" He himself questioned, "Her or Austin? Rickon's getting a bit whiny as of late."

Not knowing how to answer, he looked over at Robb. His brother was setting his jaw, almost like he wanted the conversation to drop of the edge of a cliff. The truth wouldn't work in Robb's favor, "She's been busy, I'm afraid." A lie that could be sound was told instead. "She's a healer after all. Father appointed her as the Head Physician of the clinic," Robb was looking at him now and Jon wasn't sure what the look in his eyes meant, "she may care for us, but she can't avoid her duties there forever."

His little brother seemed to have accepted the answer with a nod, even though Jon could clearly see that Bran missed them both; more so of Austin than Amara. Austin was, after all, the only constant company he had whenever Robb and himself were busy. Then there was the fact that Austin was close in age to him, someone with relatable problems and the same thinking process and naivety. "I'm sure she'll come to visit soon." He said, giving a little less than hopeful smile.

Robb's eyes looked down, almost like he was ashamed at himself. It was because he sorely forgotten that Amara was Rickon's caretaker while his mother was away. He was just a little boy, and so he needed a woman's affection and console. No wonder why the boy kept following him around and crying, he was lonely and he had nobody to blame for that but himself. Even he could say he missed the healer's presence, but he was just too stubborn to close the gap; to apologize.

Jon hadn't bothered paying much attention to Theon and his playful banter with the barmaids from the Smoking Log. The times where Jon was envious of Theon's freedom to lay with any woman he chose didn't come back to him now, even though the younger ( and blushing ) barmaid was pretty in both body and face. Theon's escapades didn't seem worth the envy they usually brought out of him since the thought of bastard Greyjoys littering the place made Jon want to frown. So instead, Jon maneuvered his horse over to Bran in order to ride next to him. "You're riding pretty well, Bran. You've been practicing, haven't you? I told you one day you won't need Hodor or Joseth."

His words made Bran smile as he looked up at him, "I know, you were right. Sorry I didn't believe you before."

Tousling his hair, he rested his forehead against his brother's. "What have I told you about apologizing so much? You've been through something hard; no one blames you for your moods."

Nodding, he watched Jon's eyes look around for a bit before slowly, mischievous glancing over at him. "Should we race?"

With his eyes alight, Bran grinned. "You were reading my mind!"

"We're brothers, after all." Knowing not to go too fast, he made his horse go into a trot, something that Bran could easily follow.

Startled, Robb's head snapped up at his brothers as the wolves seemed to race after them, competing with the pace they were on. With a smile, he made his own horse pick up speed, leaving Theon confused and annoyed by their sudden race. Robb snorted when he heard the yells and ruckus behind him.

Jon had slowed his horse with wide eyes as he saw Amara standing outside the clinic. In her hands was a large basin and she was throwing out water, which seemed clouded and dirtied. The look on her face was of disgust, she even stuck out her tongue when the water splashed against the ground. Bran followed his gaze and noticed her as she seemed to be making her way back inside until Jon called out her name, "Amara!"

Surprised, Jon smirked as the healer nearly dropped her basin, easily startled as she always been. Letting out a sigh with her face contorted out of irritation, her eyes snapped up to look at him but softened upon the sight of Bran. By the time she looked back at Jon, her vexation wasn't as bad as it was beginning to be. "My, my…" She said as she walked over, "isn't it quite odd that the day I finally see Jon Snow after a fortnight, it snows?" She bristled, eyes giving him an accusing glower.

He could feel the heat of her anger even from here. "The snow was telling you that you would see me today." He jested as she bit down her lip, fighting not to smile. Of course, her mood took a drastic change when Robb caught up with them and was looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and a few other things.

"My Lord." Amara remained polite even though her voice still gave way of her anger.

"Healer." He replied back, sounding just as bitter as she did.

Both Bran and Jon exchanged looks with one another. It seemed Bran caught onto the _true_ reason why Amara didn't visit Winterfell these days. Meanwhile, Jon was seemingly tired of the attitudes they bore for one another. "If it's all right, could I talk to her?" Jon asked, mainly to Bran but also wanting's Robb acceptance. He couldn't just simply abandon them and he did go out here with them for the sake of Bran.

Bran nodded, "Can you tell Austin to visit me soon?" He asked Amara, "And Rickon misses you."

A look of guilt seemed to wash over her features, possibly because she forgot that she was supposed to care for Rickon in Lady Catelyn's absence. "Tell Little Lord Rickon I shall see him soon and Austin will visit you after your outing is done." She assured him with a smile, and Bran took her answer with a smile.

Robb merely gave Jon a nod of approval, and he soon removed himself from the procession and led his horse towards the clinic. Climbing down from the horse with ease, he walked towards Amara who was still holding the empty basin. Robb and Bran took off, the others following behind. Maester Luwin gave Amara a smile and a nod as he passed, and she returned it with a genuine one of her own.

"What's bothering you?" Now that they were alone, her hand slid the door of the clinic to a close. They had proper privacy. Well, not really since they were still outside, but it was as much privacy as they were going to get right now.

"What's bothering me?" He echoed, "I can't see you without reason?" His frown was deep, almost wondering if she was taking her anger on Robb out on him.

Eyeing him skeptically for a minute, Amara lowered her head. "I should think there'd be a reason why you haven't come to visit me in weeks." He almost wanted to laugh at how pouty she was right then, almost as if she was going to throw a tantrum. Her eyes slowly looked back up at him, narrowing. "It's not like you missed me or anything." Wasn't a woman suppose to say that meekly? She said it like it was a threat.

His mouth opened, prepared to easily say that he had missed her but then he remembered who he was. That wouldn't have been appropriate, and he almost let himself be carried away. Above all, he figured she was joking too. How could he answer her jest with honesty? Wouldn't that be strange? He'd look like a fool if he did. "You haven't visited me either. Are you tired of my face?"

Nudging him the basin, she knitted her brows together. "You know _why_ I haven't stepped foot in Winterfell." He chuckled, rubbing his arm of where nudge him as if it had hurt. "How is he though? Lord Robb, that is."

Even in the fit of her stubbornness and anger, she still cared for him. Jon couldn't help but feel pained but happy at her soft heart, "Stressed. There's a lot of things going on that I need to tell you."

There was so much that she didn't know. From the flash of fear that came across her eyes, he was sure that she would probably have trouble handling all the news he had to tell reveal to her at once. "I almost don't want you to tell me." Her voice was low, nearing a whisper, but he heard it soundly.

"Are you sure about that?" Jon asked, frowning, and she sighed before he continued. "You really won't like what I have to say but if you don't want to hear it then—"

"Tell me." Her eyes looked over to his direwolf after catching him at the corner of her eyes. Ghost had stayed a reasonable distance away, almost as if he was guarding them but aware of Amara's fear of him. Jon followed her gaze before meeting their eyes again.

"Lady Stark is in the Eyrie." Amara rose a brow, obviously confused by that. Wasn't she on her way from King's Landing? Why would she go to the Vale? Jon could see the questions she was asking herself on her face. "She took Lord Tyrion as prisoner."

Stunned, she dropped the basin with eyes wide. "W-What?! But why—?"

"The dagger that the man intended to use to kill Bran belonged to Lord Tyrion." Even though Jon came to Tyrion's defense as well, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been played for a fool. There was still the fact that it was still suspicious that Jaime Lannister didn't join the hunt to protect his king, but the dagger was too damning to Lord Tyrion's innocence. It was much too hard for Jon to simply ignore, even if he liked the little man himself.

"He was framed." Her quick defense didn't surprise Jon. In fact, he thought that too at first; yet he realized that it was just plain denial in the end. Could he fault her? He couldn't. She formed a friendship with him, as did he, and so it was was clouding her judgement. In some ways, Robb had been right about her in regards to that, as much as Jon didn't want to admit it. "It doesn't make sense. Why would Lord Tyrion harm him? And what about your speculation about the Kingslayer? Does that get thrown to the waters because of the dagger?"

With a sigh, he shook his head. "What do you want me to say, Amara? How can I believe he's innocent if the weapon used is his?"

"Because you know he's not that kind of person, Jon!" The volume of her voice rose a little higher than she intended. After dealing with her quick temper last time, he wasn't as startled by it as he had been before. He halfway expected it this time. With a sigh, she calmed herself some. "You and I both know that, but you… but you don't believe him. You've changed your mind about him, knowing that there is no motive for him to do such a thing. It's obvious the Kingslayer is the real culprit, you even believed that."

Nothing good and nothing would be changed if they argued about it. There was also the fact they were out in the open, which Jon didn't think an argument of Tyrion guilt or innocence was appropriate. So he decided to relay the other news, "Speaking of him, the Kingslayer killed Jory—"

"Jory is dead?" Her voice was low in disbelief. The Captain of the Guards, Ser Rodrik's nephew, was murdered by Jaime Lannister. "But… why?"

The two weren't close, Jon knew, but they had spoke whenever they were in one another's presence. Jory got along with practically everyone and so the news was hard to swallow. It was also a shock to know someone you were used to seeing just suddenly died, murdered no less. "I don't know… Father was even injured during the fight, shattered his leg. He hasn't woken up since…" His eyes averted, sighing as he fought to finish his sentence, "since Maester Pycelle gave him milk of the poppy."

Her hand, small but determined, grabbed his sleeve. He hadn't stopped her or moved her hand, but slowly look to her to see how tense and heavy her shoulder, but there was empathy in her eyes. That alone was enough to tell him that she was worried for him, "What about Lady Sansa and Arya? Are they…?"

"They're fine." She sighed in relief, her hand resting on her chest as if he told her the greatest news. He knew that Amara loved both of them, and would be devastated if they were harmed. So her heart rested some, as it should.

"Robb is also thinking of calling the banners." As soon as she felt the slightest bit of relief, Jon took it away the second he said that. He regretted it after seeing the fear take form in her eyes, but she had to know.

Amara didn't want war, Jon remembered when she told him about agreeing with Maester Luwin against Robb's idea. Yet he wondered if she could see how one would think it was the right thing to do? His father was in danger and in a coma surrounded by his enemies, and his faithful men dead. Lady Stark took captive of Lord Tyrion who allegedly almost had her son killed after crippling him. How could she look him in the eyes and say it was wrong?

"Do you side with him?" She asked and he wondered how she would feel about his words.

He chose not to answer right away, and he didn't realize that the longer he waited, it felt like a sword was hanging in the air. He could feel her eyes on him as he was looking off in the distance his brothers and their men went as he contemplated how to answer her. "This can't be forgotten." He finally said.

Jon didn't know what to make of the expression she formed. She wasn't happy nor supportive, he could tell, but she wasn't against it either. It was as if she realized that things had to be this way and he was grateful that even if she hadn't like the idea, she knew it was a must. But if war was going to happen then would he ever see her again? If he had powered through his tiredness and saw her then he wouldn't feel like they spent less time together. He could've got a few more memories of her before being sent off to fight a war for their honor, for their father.

"If war should break out then—"

"I'm going with you." Jon stood in shock, eyes widening as big as they could as he saw her making her posture upright and firm. The look in her eyes was enough to tell him she wasn't going to back down, but that didn't mean he wouldn't fight to change her mind. "Maester Luwin will stay here with the Young Lords and I'll let Austin stay with them, but you will need me to go with you. I'm the best healer after the Maester, it only makes sense."

The thought of her going out into a battlefield horrified him, for many reasons. "Amara, you know nothing of war!" Amara was surprised by how loud he was; the anger, the tone, and the way his eyes seemed to darken. She stood there, surprised, with her mouth agape. "What happens out there…" He continued, frustrated to the point that he rubbed his forehead. "There's no place in the battlefield for you. You could be killed and I can't…" There he was, on that edge of again, of saying something he wanted but knowing he shouldn't. "I can't let you risk your life like that." So he settled for a much more gentle and friendlier truth.

From the way she was staring him down, he knew she was angry. There was that storm in her eyes, like thunder and lightning above the ocean's surface. Even though he knew of her fury then, there was something about her aura that was warm, in a good way, oddly enough. "I'm going whether you like it or not." Her voice was calm, her face impassive. He had no idea what she was actually thinking, and she was making adamantly sure about that. The tone in her voice was to tell him that this was nonnegotiable, that he was essentially trying to argue with a stonewall. "You can't stop me."

"Do you think Robb will let you?" He hated using his brother, but he had to make sure she stayed in the North.

"I don't care." Jon could tell she really meant that by the way her eyebrows lowered rather nonchalantly. "I'll follow you anyway! You think _his_ words can stop me?"

Her persistence was far too strong for Jon's liking, but it was one of the things he found so endearing about her in the first place. _'Such a hard-headed girl…'_ He thought, _'But that's why I…'_ His grey eyes softened upon the sight of her, feeling defeated before putting up a real fight. He really was a fool… A bumbling idiot was what Arya would call him now.

"You just don't get it, do you?" He practically mumbled the words before resting his hand atop of her head. The act wasn't rough like how he would tousle Arya's hair, but a gentle pat before moving his hand in a swift caress down the side of her head, letting her ear be covered by his open palm. Amara gave a smile, one that captivated him upon the sight. Her lips were in a lovely crescent, and for a second time, he was glad to indulge himself to touch her and to feel her lean into it in acceptance.

No matter how much snow seemed to fall, light or heavy, in this enclosed space between them both, Jon felt warmth.

"It's _you_ who doesn't get it."

Pulling his hand away, he opted to stand with his arms at his sides. "Always have to have the last word, don't you?"

With an haughty tilt of her chin, he watched her smile turn into a mischievous smirk. "Of course, did you think I would let you win?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head, chuckling. "I wonder if you were always like this."

"Like what?" She asked, head tilted questioningly.

"Stubborn." He opened his eyes on time to see her eyes slowly look down at the ground, watching the snow melt every time it touched the earth's floor. Not knowing how to bring up another subject in mind, he decided to go for it anyway. "You know, I heard you were betrothed before."

Amara didn't seem surprised. In fact, he believed she was guessing how he could've found out. Instead of the surprise he thought he would've seen, he just saw her face make a rather peculiar expression. A cross between anger and sadness, and even guilt. The healer was always good at masking herself, but right now she looked rather vulnerable; almost like she couldn't control the look on her face.

Her lips dipped down in a frown, her nod rather somber. "I was." With a sigh, she shrugged her shoulders. "She told you, didn't she?"

"Actually," Jon wondered if he should say it was Robb, who heard Sansa talking about it. Not wanting to throw his brother in the mix, he decided not to. "I just overheard her. Sansa likes to gossip with her friend, the Poole girl; Jeyne."

"I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd be interested." Now it was his turn to frown. "You've never asked me about my past before."

"I never thought it was easy for you to talk about." She shifted in place, obviously uncomfortable about the topic.

He almost wished he kept his mouth closed and just as he was about to dismiss it, she stopped him. "I'll tell you… Tonight." Nodding her head, she gave out a breathless chuckle. "I owe it to you, you know."

"If you don't—"

"I want to." Much more resolute, she looked up at him in challenging. Her eyes always daring him to go against what she wished, almost like she was threatening him. Smiling at the expression, he gave her a nod. "All right."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." Her bottom lip stuck out in a blatant pout, "Victor broke his leg again."

"Again?!" How many times could the man break something? Now that he thought about it, what were the main reasons that led to this? Jon knew. Just about everyone did. "Don't tell me—"

"He caught his wife with some young boy…" She shrugged, "For the fifteenth time this month. I don't know why he thinks he can do much of anything." Her eyes looked over towards the window, seeing a man with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. "He must love her." Jon followed her gaze to the window, seeing the frustrated but broken man.

He felt sorry for him, truly. It was usually the other way round, where women caught their husbands cheating and took initiative to want to harm both husband and mistress. "Love rears fools, doesn't it?"

"You're telling me." His eyes watched as she sighed for the umpteenth time. "I'm sure your brothers will be a bit heated if you stay with me any longer." Nudging him again, she smiled much more happily this time. "They'll think you like me more than you like them."

With a roll of his eyes, he rose a brow. "And if that were true?"

"Ohh, Jon Snow, are you trying to say that you've fallen for me?" He knew she was pulling his leg, but she didn't really know there was actual truth in her words. "The Lone Wolf and the Healer, sounds like a ballad, doesn't it?"

Jon gave a wry smile, "Wouldn't the Bastard and the Healer be more appropriate?" Even though Jon was grateful that she never spoke of his lowborn status whenever the situation would call for it, he knew that nobody else would be as kind as she.

Amara nodded, "I suppose that would be the correct way, but the Lone Wolf is nicer." Wrinkling her nose at him, she pushed him with the basin she picked back up. "Now get goin', you're distracting me."

"Alright, alright." Laughing, he made his way to his horse and climbed up effortlessly onto the saddle. Using one hand, she gave him a wave. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Aye." It would be a while before he looked away from her, she didn't just outright hurry into the clinic. She watched him as his horse trollop down the muddy street, going in the direction of the Wolfswood his brothers went.

 **...**

All he could do was sink further into the soft sofa of his bedchambers, finally letting his body get its well deserved rest. There was so much to be done and then the decision on whether he was to raise the banners and march South to fight the Lannisters. Robb couldn't fathom how anyone thought he was ready nor strong to do this. Who said he was ready? He was man grown, most would say, but Robb still felt like a boy. A Boy Lord who never stepped into a battlefield before or rose his sword with an army at his command. Rubbing his hands up and down his face, Robb almost wished the world would just stop and let him settle everything for just a minute.

"So he does grow tired like the rest of us."

The voice startled him and he could say he felt somewhat disappointed to see it was the Maester. Robb sighed, grabbing the nearby goblet of wine. "Did you come to lecture me?"

"Yes and no." Luwin smiled, "I see Amara has returned to Winterfell."

It didn't come as a shock. Robb knew that he wasn't the reason why she came back and she wasn't going to look for him either. "For Jon?"

"For Rickon." The Maester corrected him, "She also asked for me to give you this." There was a small package in his hands now that his long sleeves were obscuring it from Robb's view. Curiously, he sat upright on the sofa as the old man came over and handed him the wrapped package. "What is it?"

"I don't know, my lord, I haven't opened it." It was clear that Luwin didn't open it because he trusted her. It would've been proper for him to look through the packaging but Luwin didn't even touch the string that tied it all together. Jon, Bran, Rickon, and Luwin all trusted her while he questioned her loyalties and ties all due to her liking of Tyrion. It had grown worse when he received the raven from his mother but part of him knew that Amara honestly had no idea how cruel the Lannisters were. His mother even knew she couldn't be blamed. He couldn't fault her for that completely, the truth they discovered that it is, but he could fault her for not taking his words seriously enough.

Untying the package, the brown cloth that held it all together had opened and before Robb was a pendant of a grey wolf. His eyes widened at the sight, picking up the heavy design, he brought it closer to his eyes for a deeper inspection. Despite it being made of pure silver, the intricate designs of the fur and other details made it look grey. "It looks like Grey Wind." He said, smiling down at the stones that were used for the yellow of his wolf's eyes.

"I thought you two were…" The Maester indicated on the strain relationship between the two.

Robb rose his eyes, looking up at Luwin. "I could forgive her… for now." Luwin smiled at the playfulness in his voice as Robb placed the pendant on, liking the weight of it around his neck. He then looked down to see a letter was at the bottom of it. Unfolding the parchment, his eyes scanned over the neat and feminine handwriting:

 _I missed your nameday celebration. I heard it was quite fun, but I'm a little sore that so many men got so pissed-drunk. You gave me more patients than intended the next day, even Fat Tom emptied his belly nearly all over the place because he got himself sick. I'm still angry with you, but I give you this gift. You should be proud of me, you know. I fear these direwolves and here I am, thinking of giving a gift such as this to you. It doesn't change much of anything though, I'm still angry with you, yet I give you this pendant and my undying loyalty; if you believe such a thing even exists._

 _Amara._

The curve of his lips didn't falter, in fact it grew, broadly. "Where is she now?"

"She's in the courtyard with Jon." The answer made him knit his brows, mind curious of why the two would be out there and alone nonetheless. "She said she wanted to walk around." Luwin added, easing Robb's inquisitiveness if only by a fraction.

He stood to his feet, "I'm going to thank her for the gift." Luwin gave a nod, understanding and patient, allowing his lord to leave his bedchamers after swiping the cloak the laid at the end of his bed.

It didn't take long until he was outside. Above him was a stadium of stars and the peerless moon that was in a slim crescent, leaving the rest of it dark. Up ahead, he had saw Amara and Jon standing and looking up at the waning moon, her black hair glossy from the moonlight and fluttering in the wind. Before he could part his lips, call out her name, his eyes widened at the words that came out of her mouth.

"The reason why I left Yi Ti is because I'm the reason my father is without a life and a head."


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** The next chapter is finally the war. Thank God, I know I've been dragging it out a bit and a lot of surprises are in store. I hope you'll like the changes I made. So, it'll be _really_ AU from next chapter on out. This is the last chapter of remotely happy times in Winterfell. It makes me sad thinking about it.

* * *

 _"You must put the good of your people before yourself always."_

It was perfectly clear; the sound of her father's voice. Not only could she hear his voice inside her head, she could clearly see the oblong shape of his face as he said them. Just a second of an image of his face should've made her smile, but the vision wasn't as kind as you'd think it be. No, in her mind's eyes, his head was rolling down the many stone steps of the great shrine for the Maiden-of-Light. The warm, metallic smell of his blood had instantly wafted in her nostrils as if she was breathing it in for the first time. The warmth of the liquid red that once flowed within him was splattered in uneven blotches across her face and the wedding dress she wore. She could never remove such a life-changing image in her mind. That's why she thought of him less so that the memory couldn't invade her troubled head as fervently as it had before.

Jon merely stood there, body tense, and his face etched incredulity with an overwhelming factor of confusion. How else would he look at her? Who just outright tells someone of such a thing? So the look did not surprise her, she very much expected it. She knew of its arrival, but what Jon would do or say afterwards was unclear and almost frightening to her. How would he feel if he heard her story? Her part to play in the death of the first man she ever knew, who helped brought her life, that she had unconditionally loved. As much as Jon loved his own father, he'd probably hate her, that's the worse she could think of. "You've heard of the Jogos Nhai, haven't you?" His nod was slow, mouth thinned after closing it from his first wave of shock. "You've known the blood they've spilled? The blood of my people most of all…"

"I've heard little, but I know of the bad blood."

Setting her jaw, her eyes stared up at the wide-open sky to give herself some sort of calm as she told the story. It would be the first time she retold the events since she never had a reason to walk down memory lane. "I should start by saying that I was supposed to marry Qasar, who was the Jhat of the Jogos Nhai until his death." The vision of the yellow-skin, pointed-head, and clean-shaved brute warrior came to mind. The sight of him painted in the canvas of her mind made her emotions rumble and churn that terrifying darkness that still had life within her. "My father thought that our people could come to know true peace if a Jhat married one of the hundred princes' daughters. He gathered that they would feel no need to strike us for we would be united by marriage, by blood." Her eyes glance at Jon from their corners, "I was chosen because Qasar took interest in me when he came to Yi Ti to talk about this pact."

"I was but a small girl when I met him. He said the reason he chose me was because he liked the way I had eyes of water; "There's not enough water in the plains," were his exact words." Averting her gaze from him, she looked back at the white crescent that was the moon and took a single step forward with head tilted up. "He gave me red camellias, and many other gifts with kind words with every meeting… So my young heart naturally grew fond of him, blissfully ignorant of the ways and years we suffered by them. I only grew to learn to accept him as my future husband and the fact I would leave my home, my family, behind."

"They purposely kept that from you?" She nodded her head in reply. His look was of pity, making her cringe since pity wasn't welcomed to her. How could you pity someone who could've ended things differently? He didn't know it yet, but she was sure that pity would disperse.

"My father made sure of it because he knew I wouldn't have been so obedient if I had known. He must be in rage in the other side still… Days before the wedding ceremony, Naran gave me a history book of Yi Ti as a wedding gift. It was because of my little brother that I learned of all the monstrosities the Jogos Nhai had done. Seasoned with knowledge and full of vengeance now, I pledged to kill Qasar on the night of our wedding, even if it meant that I was to die with him."

"I asked my Uncle to help me, to give me something to use to end Qasar's life; poison, a dagger, whatever the means that would make his life be done. Unfortunately, my plan was let loose and found its way in my… betrothed's ear. Qasar took my father's head with his blade because of it, right in front of our Gods, on the day we were supposed to be married."

"That is the most single cruel thing you can do to our people. We believe the soul lies in our belly, so if your head is lopped off, your soul is forever damned in a corpse." The heat of her anger rolled off her, not even the chill of the wind that gave her goose pimples could not rid her of it. "I took the spear my father kept as a walking staff… And I pierced Qasar's heart when his back was turned. I incited war by killing him. A lot of deaths happened that day, and I was the one truly at fault. I have no one else to blame but myself. And it was because I hated myself and kept being reminded of what I did, I ran away."

He was silent as if he was truly absorbing all the information she had told him, but he didn't know how fearful she was of what he would think of her now. A girl who was too bull-headed, who disobeyed her father for petty vengeance… Who let possibly hundreds of people die because of a careless plan. All the blood of those people who were taken were in her hands and could not be wiped clean.

"How could you have known that would happen?"

Stunned, her eyes immediately looked up at him, seeing his face illuminated by the moonlight. He was staring straight at her, with soft eyes and an aura of sympathy. How could he feel an ounce of sympathy for her after she explained that? She expected the worse things. Never this. "But I…"

"But you wanted to rid the Jogos Nhai." He interrupted her, "You didn't want to marry a man whose family slain yours for generations. It might've been reckless, but you were young, angry, and scared. You never meant for those people to die."

Lowering her head, she shook it in refusal. She couldn't accept his kind words, they were only excuses; mere lies to make her not feel so hateful towards herself. _'I don't like him.'_ She told herself in order to not be easily swayed. "That's no excuse, Jon. If I had done what my father—"

"Then who was to say that Qasar would honor the unification? He might've wanted take your family's realm in the future, and it would slowly eat away until the Jogos Nhai took everything. Those people could've been killed anyway, your father could've died by his hands regardless, and who is to say if you or your brother would've lived after that as well?"

"That's all what could've happened." Amara argued, "Good things could've also happened. I could've lived with a husband, I could've learned to love him… My father could've been alive right now, reigning as prince still, and my brother would've been able to grow without all these responsibilities on his little shoulders."

"I was so quick to want vengeance and I didn't know the cost of it. What vengeance would take from me…"

His arms encircled her shoulders, pulling her face in close to his chest. With eyes wide as a doe's, she stood there frozen solid in his embrace. "And you still have to have the last word. You never listen to me." The smile came easy as her hands hovered over his back, unsure if returning this hug would've been a good thing to do. "Kindness comes very few times; none of us find it in this world as much as we should." His words didn't lift her spirits, not even by a little. It was the truth, she knew, but it was always a hard fact to swallow. "I've learned that sometimes we have to get through the struggles we are given by imaging what the world might be like if the things we dream or hope for came true."

For a flicker of a moment, Amara imagined a entirely different world of the one she had always known. In that world, in her mind's eye, her parents would still be alive, and wouldn't have to be forced to give their daughter to such cruel people in order to keep peace. Her brother would be growing before her very eyes, smiling and carefree. The thought of that world made her smile, painfully, but it made her happy for the shortest of time.

Jon's words made her realize that pain wasn't permanent; through the losses and the wins in life, you can bear through him because they eventually leave you because happiness comes and goes. You have to reach for it with open arms; it was a chase, and it wasn't worth giving up.

"You have a soft heart, Jon Snow." In efforts to save face, to not melt into the embrace as she desperately wanted to, she hit his stomach with a loose fist. The punch wasn't hard enough to harm him, but it did make him 'oof' and reel back, clutching onto it. "That'll get you killed one day."

His eyes narrowed some, glaring at her for being hit, but the softened expression that came afterwards eased her. "Being a bastard will do that to you." He said, finally standing upright. "You want to help people through their pain because nobody is there to help you through yours."

Looking down at her feet, she mindlessly kicked away at the dirt beneath them. "I don't know why you find reasons to justify what I've done.."

He didn't give her an answer, which made her raise her head to look up at him again. He just stood there, his face illuminated by the moonlight, making his pale skin look rather beautiful. _'I don't like him.'_ She fiercely told herself again, to stop the awe she held for him then.

Even the dark pools of grey he called his eyes seemed to sparkle, reflecting the pale light. Her throat felt tight, eyes gazing and noticing such minuscule things about him. _'I don't like him… I really don't… I don't like him because I love him.'_ Ros would laugh if she heard her thoughts. Amara could imagine the thousands of 'I told you so' she would've gotten. Love was a feeling, she told Sansa once. Why couldn't it be a choice? A choice so that she could be allowed to push such feelings away because she had known the risks. The great risk of loving someone she could never have. _'Such a stupid girl you are.'_ She cursed at herself, and she thought he might've heard her for it looked as if he was starting to smile, but the moonlight just may have been blinding or playing tricks with her vision.

"I hope Lord Robb enjoys my gift." She swiftly changed the subject, and tried to focus on other things. "I gave him a pendant." Amara stated rather triumphantly.

"Oh?" Curious, he decided to ask her about it. "A pendant of what?"

"I was in the market one day, a traveling merchant came by and was selling foreign wares. He had a pendant of a wolf that reminded me greatly of Grey Wind. So I thought I'd gift it to Lord Robb for his nameday since I couldn't be here for the celebration, I hope he wears it."

His nod was rather absent but she didn't take much notice of it. "I'm sure he'll like the gift."

"You think so?" Doubtful she was. She had hoped the gift would be something he liked, but with the way things were between them, she feared he'd toss it. "He and I still… aren't on the greatest of standings."

With a reluctant nod, she felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. For one, she was glad that Jon knew of the reason why she left Yi Ti. If he had heard it from someone else, she was sure that he wouldn't have been so understanding. They wouldn't know her remorse or how much she thought about the wrong she done, and how she knew she had set such a thing in motion. Amara could probably never find it within her to forgive herself for what she done, but she could move on. That was all she could do.

"Is there any more of that baked brie left?" She didn't realize how hungry she was until she notice how stomach was so completely empty. She didn't eat not a taste of anything because she'd been too busy in mind to pay attention.

"You want to eat this late?" Jon questioned before furrowing his brows and crossing his arms. "You've skipped meals today?"

"Not purposely." Feeling sheepish since he caught her, she breathed out a rather nervous laugh. "I was… occupied with a great deal of things." It was true. She was too busy to eat or to realize she hadn't eaten a thing at all.

Jon grabbed the top of her head, moving her head to face Winterfell before leading her. Her face shot up with warmth of embarrassment, hating the way he was treating her as if she was one of the boys or Arya. "Go on, we can't keep Gage up."

"Get off me!" Before she could get a good hit to his wrist, he quickly rose his hand for it to be too high for her to reach and settling back down to leading her when her arms were lowered. If only she had been just a little bit taller then… His laugh rang in her ears, pleasant as it sounded, she grew more annoyed. "Stop it, I'm not some horse that you lead to straws."

"You're not because the horse would feed itself when hungered." Cutting him a glare, his smile was more reticent than it was playful, which made her wonder what exactly was Jon really thinking.

 **...**

Swords were made different in Westeros. Amara hadn't noticed that until she was watching Robb and Jon handle real swords in the courtyard. Before, Ser Rodrik made them use wooden ones, but since Robb and Jon were skilled, they were able to not harm one another with the heavy, long blades. Sitting among the other spectators, her eyes watched the two with Rickon in her lap and Bran and Austin on her right. The Maester, sitting in front of her, was reading a heavy book in his wrinkled hands but would occasionally glance up at them. He was there just incase someone got harmed, he wasn't interested in their training by a longshot. Theon was sitting on her left side, much to her displeasure, but he was abnormally quiet but still having his usual smirk adorning his thin lips.

"Who do you think is going to win?" Just when she praised his silence, he spoke. It wasn't that she hated Theon, but he always wasn't the kindest to her. He teased in a manner where you were unsure if he was serious or a joke, and he seemed arrogant to an ungodly degree. There were times where they were amiable, but it was rare. Her eyes didn't give him the satisfaction of properly giving him eye contact, so she kept her eyes focused on Robb and Jon.

"Does it matter?" Amara knew such an answer wouldn't be enough. Theon was the persistent type, "It's just training." She figured if she sounded nonchalant that he wouldn't want to feel entertained by a conversation with her, but she was wrong for a second time now.

He snorted, almost surprised by her tone. Trying to get in a rather comfortable position, he leaned back some and had his arms crossed over his chest, "That's what you think."

Furrowing her brows, she done what she didn't want to and looked at him questioningly. Rickon gazed up at her, confused just as she was since he couldn't help but to hear the conversation. "What are you talking about, Theon?" She finally asked, hoping he wasn't going to do his usual games by speaking all around the matter in riddles. She despised when he did that. He liked seeming that he knew something that other people didn't, as if he was that perceptive.

"It's better if you don't know." He feigned a sigh, smirking still. "It's a thing among men; somethin' a woman wouldn't know anything about."

His words made her feel oddly uneasy, making her eyes turn to look back at the fight with feeling still seeping into her. Robb had begun a short run towards his half brother, who met him halfway. Their swords smacked right into each other's, making the sharp clanging sound of steel against steel ring loudly in the courtyard. The force was incredible, nearly making their hands shake from it, but they kept a tight grip so that the swords wouldn't fall from their hands. Robb smirked then, finding leverage and pushing Jon back when he applied the right amount of weight in his sword. Jon had taken a few steps back by the force applied, but managed to find the strength to push back, making Robb stumble some backwards.

Both of them were giving one another a rather cocky grin, which made the air seem less competitive and more so friendly and fun. Taking a swipe at him, Jon watched the blade swiftly cut the air above him due to his fast reaction. With a nod, Robb had lunged at him again, aiming for his throat this time but Jon had made a swift horizontal dash of his sword, avoiding the immediate danger by just a hair.

Every mistake that was made, they learned from, and then they changed direction; varying who would take offense or defense. The battle was quick-paced and every time they clashed, one of them had to given in and separate their blades from the battle of strength. They were both sweating now, beads running down like rivers as Jon's curls clung onto the sides of his face and neck. Robb's had his slicked back from constantly raking through his hair with his fingers.

"Giving up, Stark?" Jon teased.

"Not in Seven Hells, Snow."

Amara glanced down at Rickon, his eyes observing every move his brothers made. Soon he would be taking up a sword, which made Amara realize how fast time was going by. Her hand had rubbed the side of his head absently and he blinked twice before glancing up at her, "Something wrong?" He must've noticed her anxiety or was possibly alarmed by her sudden need of giving him affection.

"No, Little Lord." She gave him a smile, "I was thinking about how soon you will be training too, like Austin." He didn't seem particularly excited about what she said, which worried her some. His brows lowered and a frown adorning his face, "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to learn. I'll never be good as Robb or Jon, and Robb says Austin is naturally gifted." It was normal for him to feel pressured, but she felt guilty for making him feel that way suddenly.

Holding the boy of six close, she tried to find words that could comfort him. "Maybe the sword isn't for you. What about the bow or some other weapon?"

"I don't like the bow." Well, that idea was down. "And what other weapon?"

What other weapons did the Westerosi use? Amara tried hard to think. King Robert used a warhammer, she learned, but the boy seemed too small and lanky to be able to wield something as heavy as that. He needed something that did well with his weight, something that would allow him give swift, fatal strikes or chances to maim his enemy good enough for an escape. "Well, is there a weapon you're interested in?"

His blue eyes stared absently in thought before he gazed up at her and shook his head. "No, nothing doesn't seem to fit me."

"There's a weapon out there that fits you." Her words did little to comfort him and he seemed more hopeless than he did minutes ago. "I'll find the perfect one for you, do you believe me?"

The young boy had gave her a skeptical nod, almost as if he was trying to appease her than truthfully say he believed her. It made her laugh since he was such a kind child, trying to ease her feelings than his own. How selfless, she couldn't help but think.

"You're a really sweet boy, Little Lord." Her eyes smiling with her lips, he gave her a shy curve of his own as he shifted his eyes to look back at his older brothers. "I'm sure your brothers once felt the same as you when they were of the same age."

"You think so?" That seemed to help him believe her, much to her surprise. Pressing her forehead on his, she gave a slow nod. His eyes squinted as he smiled, grinning at the possibility that maybe when he grows a little older, he'd be just as good. Maybe even better.

"I know so." Both of them had looked back to see both Robb and Jon, lowered arms and breathing as if their lungs had so little air.

"Who won?" Rickon asked as he leaned over to ask Austin and Bran.

Both of them had glanced at him, Bran shrugging his shoulders. "I don't think either of them won or lost. It was a tie."

"A tie?" Rickon echoed, unexcited about the answer. "I thought one of 'em would win."

Amara casually glanced over to Theon, who still wore the same look he had before. It bothered her indefinitely. He knew something and she was still in the dark about it.

"How about we ask Gage to make something sweet?" The healer suggested, making Rickon give her his full attention. "Have you ever had Dragon's beard candy?"

"Dragon's beard?" The face he made had caused her to snort, "That doesn't sound good… And since when did dragon's have beards?"

"You'll understand when you see them." Standing on her feet, she had been strong enough to carry the boy in her arms, although he was too big for such a thing. It would only be temporary, for she placed him on his feet when there was enough room for them both to stand.

Austin quickly turned to look at them, "Mother, where are you going?"

"To eat some sweets." She answered, "Right?" She directed to the youngest Stark.

Rickon nodded, "She's going to let me taste a candy called Dragon's beard."

Bran knitted his brows in confusion, "Dragon's beard?"

"Oh! It's really good, and really sweet." The blond said, remembering the white candy. "Can you save some for me and Bran?"

"Of course." With a wave of her hand, she left the courtyard with Rickon's hand in hers.

They walked slow, allowing him to look around and enjoying the day. It was cloudless today but it was a bit nippy for his liking. He would miss the long, sunny Summer days. He was raised in the Summer, he never knew of Autumn or Winter. And from the stories Old Nan told him, he was afraid of the approaching Winter. Once they were far from the courtyard, Amara ceased her walking, making his arm yank due to her abrupt stop.

Her eyes were scanning around the small area they stood in before she bent her knees. "Little Lord, are you sure you don't want to learn a weapon like the bow or sword?"

"I'm sure." He nodded, standing firm by what he said. "You said you would find a weapon for me."

Moving her hand behind her, she pulled out a rather strange weapon that the boy never seen before. He couldn't even what the imagine name of it could be, but he was both terrified and mystified by the sharp object. "This is a chain-sickle." She explained, "It's been a long time since I've used it and I don't think I have much use for it anymore."

Handing it over to him, she watched his small hand wrap around the handle of the sickle. Rickon moved it around to observe the razor-edge of the curved blade. It was sharp, he could tell, and that's what frightened him the most. "This is from your home?"

"Yes." Amara studied his face, seeing the obvious interest he had in it. It was for the best that Rickon learned how to defend himself, even at this tender age. Austin was learning to use a sword, and with some practice, Bran could eventually learn to use the bow as he wanted. The thought of being far away from the boys while she joined Jon and Robb to war if Robb stuck by the decision, she wanted to rest easy knowing that they could at least keep themselves alive. "Would you like to learn how to use it?"

Waiting for his answer, Rickon then began to examine the chain end that protruded from the handle of the curve blade. It was a shiny silver, this chain-sickle, and there was an iron weight at the end of it that was too heavy for him to lift. His arms would need to strengthen some before he could handle it, but the idea that he would have to get strong to learn how to wield was what enticed him. "Yes!"

"Good. We're going to begin our first lesson today, but don't tell anyone about it, alright? Lord Robb will be angry if he knew I let you touch a weapon like this, but I'm doing this for you, Little Lord. There might come a day where nobody is around to protect you, so I want you to know how to protect yourself. Of course, Shaggydog will always be around, but in case he isn't."

His nod let her know that he understood what she meant, "Alright, the first lesson is how to use the chain. Once you learn how to use the chain, we'll work on using the blade."

The smile on his face tugged her heart as she gave an order for him to learn how to get use to lifting that weight at the end of the chain. It seemed that building strength would be the beginning of their training, and the boy was diligent much to her surprise. Most children when given such a tedious task would grow annoyed and give up, but not Rickon. Rickon seemed determined as ever, possibly feeling the rush of wanting to catch up to his brothers. Not only that, Arya was quite skilled with the bow as well. Like most boys his age and older, he didn't want to be outshined by a girl; his sister at that. It seemed silly though since he was being taught by one now.

Amara never trained anyone in a weaponry before. After all, this and a bow was all she ever learned in her seventeen years. The chain-sickle was something she learned how to use on her own, but the bow was something all children were taught at the age of three in Yi Ti along with horseriding. However, Rickon seemed to understand most of what she was saying, so she guessed that this training would go rather smoothly and she would have to ask Robb and Jon as well as Lord and Lady Stark for forgiveness if they ever discovered this. She couldn't imagine the anger they would have towards her for letting a boy of six wield such a weapon. She still couldn't help to think that it would all be smooth over for should a time ever come where he must fight, they would come to understand her actions. After all, it would keep him alive.

By the third hour of Rickon practicing lifting and getting used the weight, she hid the weapon on her person and they quickly went to the kitchen, which Amara taught Gage the ingredients of Dragon's beard. By the time Jon, Robb, Bran ( being carried by Hodor ), Theon, and Austin arrived, the two were giggling and eating, acting as if they were there the entire time they left the courtyard.

Theon, Jon, and Robb all halted as they were all smiles and giggles, eating the white spun sugar. Jon and Robb looked at one another with curiosity while Theon hitched his brow, brave enough to question. "What's got you both so tickled?"

Both of them shared a conversation with their eyes before looking up at Theon, "Gage and Osha seemed to like each other a lot." Rickon's lie was probably better than anything the healer could've came up with on the spot. Amara had met the Wildling briefly, this morning in fact, but she didn't say much to her since Osha was working. It bothered Amara that she looked so ragged with matted hair and unclean, but she knew that questioning why Robb let her be so would only irritate him. He was already kind enough to give Osha mercy and let her live. They didn't owe her anything else, and Amara wouldn't have no choice but to agree to that.

Theon rolled his eyes, "What's so funny about that? So what if the two are fucking around? It's what men and women do."

Amara scowled at him for using such profanity in front of Rickon, who was wide-eyed and looking at her, ready to question what the world exactly meant. Of course, Rickon heard the word before but the meaning of it escaped him. That's what it was like living with Theon as your father's ward.

Robb grabbed Theon's shoulder roughly, "Theon!" His eyes gaze warning, narrowing in cold fury. Although he was admonishing him, he wouldn't truly stay angry, not at Theon, Amara knew. Theon was too much like kin to him for him to stay angry with.

Jon sighed heavily as Hodor sat Bran at the table, allowing him to lean forward against the edge of it so that he could sit upright by himself. Austin sat next to him mulling over Theon's words, even speaking to Bran in a low voice that made it hard for everyone else to hear. Jon removed his glove from his right hand and got a piece of the white candy from the dish the two were eating from. Plopping it into his mouth, his eyes squinted as if he ate something sour since he was surprised at the thread-like and chewy texture but most of all the sweetness of it. "Its pure sugar."

"But it's good!" Austin took a piece of his own and got another for Bran, "It melts fast."

Amara could tell that Jon wasn't exactly fond of it, and he shook his head as if to rid himself of the taste. "My father used to eat them a lot." Jon suddenly frowned upon the mention of her parent and seeing the dip of the corners of her mouth. "He said: "A man should know of sweetness; first by the love his mother gives, next the essence of that makes his wife, and last of the heart of his daughter's smile." But I think of I know someone who would appreciate the sweet things in life." The person in mind was Sansa, who Amara missed dearly. She missed Sansa and Arya both, and letters were different than speaking to them in person.

"She likes sweet things." Bran knew who she thought of and his smile was rather sad too, possibly missing his sisters more than she did. As the months strode on, it made the empty feeling of Winterfell even more apparent. He wasn't even given the opportunity to see them off either, "Lemon cakes are her favorite though."

Rickon nodded with a smile, "She could eat a lots of them, but mother tells her to stop and even hides them."

Chuckling, the healer could imagine Lady Catelyn's lightly slapping Sansa's hand away from her favorite snacks. Even if things had ended rather rocky before she departed and she questioned the woman's logic in the situation with Lord Tyrion, Amara could admit ( albeit stubbornly ) that she missed her too. "Can you tell us more about Yi Ti?" Amara looked over to Rickon, a bit surprised about his answer. "Maester says we should be worldly."

Taking another piece of Dragon's beard, she pulled off a small portion and brought it to her lips. She could feel Austin and Bran's eyes on her, obviously curious too. Austin only knew little but he knew more than them and she even tried to teach him some YiTish at home whenever she had the time. "What is it that you want to know, Little Lord?"

Taking a seat at the table, Jon seemed interested too for the most part. "Aren't there sorceerows there?"

"Sorcerers, you mean?" He nodded upon her correction, "Ah, many or so it is told. I've never met one or seen magic before of that I can say." She instantly thought of the egg she dreamt about, but she wouldn't dare speak of it. They might think of her joking or even touched, and that's the last thing she wanted. "There are even animals that are suppose to hold magical powers, you know."

"Like dragons?" Bran questioned, "The people in Yi Ti believe or seen them because they named their candy after them, right?"

"Well…" It was just her luck they would mention dragons of all things. "There are many stories we tell our children and during celebrations, we even have a performance called the Dragon Dance. Other than that, I don't recall a dragon ever breathing or living in Yi Ti."

They all seemed a little disappointed. She could guess that many people hoped to see a dragon once in their life, and she never understood the reasons nor the fascination. She thought of them scary for they breathed a heat that hardly left bones after roasting your skin and flesh to oblivion. Just seeing one flying through the sky made her want to shiver as if she was wrapped in a cold breeze. "There is a story about four dragons," Not able to deal with their disheartened faces, she gave them this much. "About how they helped the people when the Emperor didn't. I guess those dragons are a little nicer than the ones who helped the Targaryens during their conquests."

"Why didn't the emperor help his people?" Jon asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, her expression showing how muddled she was about the story. "Something about him being too busy enchanted by the voice of his wife; her singing… or something like that. He enjoyed it so much that he forgot to give his people rain for their crops, nearly killing them until the dragons stepped in after hearing their cries and going against their Emperor."

"I think I know what kind of singing the Emperor was too busy listenin' too." Theon snickered, making Amara frown and sigh. Robb cleared his throat, trying to keep himself from laughing as was Jon who turned his head to avoid her anger if she caught him.

"Humorous, Theon." Amara let out a dry laugh, "I suppose you would know all about that, but I wonder… Is true or is false singing that you've come to know? Girls are quite talented in the arts of faking their enjoyment or that's just what I've been told." Looking at her nails, she looked as if she unintentionally insulted him, even though she said it with genuine purpose.

Jon hunched over during his fit of laughter, his arms around his stomach as his eyes soaked in Theon's angry expression before being blinded by tears. Robb tried to muffle his laughter with his drink, but ended up choking on his ale in the process. "W-What is that supposed to mean, healer?"

Giving him a sickeningly sweet smile, she crinkled the corner of her eyes that reminded Jon of a mischievous kitten. "Oh, I'm just simply speaking of what I know." Rubbing the side of Rickon's head gingerly, she gave him a sincere smile and spoke in a hushed voice that didn't allow the others to pick up. Whatever she was telling him had distracted him enough to not ask her what she meant.

"What are they talking about? Fake singing, real singing?" The blond-haired boy whispered into Bran's ear, "Why would a girl fake sing? Unless, of course, she didn't like the song very much."

Bran merely shrugged his shoulder, equally confused as Austin was. "I think it has something to do with Theon's habits." He wasn't naïve about sex as they might've thought he was. He picked up a lot of Theon and Robb's conversations, without either of them knowing though.

"Hodor, would you like some candy?" Amara lifted the small bowl, acting as if she didn't just insult Theon a second time.

The giant of a man clapped his hands happily before picking up one of the candies. "Hodor!" Whether if that was thanks or glee was unknown to her, but he seemed happy and enjoyed the candy as he tried to chew it, not realizing it'd melt in his tongue instantly. "Hodor!" He repeated, which made her smile instantaneously since he got himself another.

"We're not done talkin', Healer." Theon snapped, his pride hurt and his mind racing. Amara knew without even being able to hear his thoughts that he was questioning if Ros told him she faked it with him every time.

"Oh, I believe we are, Theon." Getting herself to her feet with Hodor gripping her hand in a gentle manner in assistance. She mouthed her thanks to him before giving the Greyjoy a smug smile, "I'm going to the Glass Gardens. I want to see if the Maester's Hydrangeas are blooming."

Before Jon could ask if he could come along, Robb had spoke up. "May I join you?"

Surprised that he was even speaking to her, Amara looked at him with wide eyes. "Oh…?" With a hesitant nod, she then gave an uneasy smile. "Of course, my lord."

Robb placed his goblet down before walking alongside Amara, who walked with her right hand clasping her left wrist. Jon's eyes followed them until they walked through the door with Robb holding it open and her thanking him with a bowed head. He averted his gaze, knowing that if he kept thinking or watching any longer than he would only upset himself.

"Did Robb just go off with your woman, Snow?" Flickering his eyes to the Greyjoy, Jon made his frown deepen with a look that told Theon he didn't find his joke funny.

"Still an arse, Greyjoy?"

"As always." He smirked.

Out of the Great Hall and in the corridors, Amara watched Robb in silent observation, wondering why he wanted to spend time with her. It almost frightened her to an extent since she didn't know the motive. They haven't talked much lately and she was sure that he was probably going to find an issue or press her about Lord Tyrion. In the heart of it all, Amara hoped that she could mend their friendship because she did enjoy him. It didn't feel much the same to be at odds with him and didn't make her feel great when they argued. It saddened her more than anything.

"I heard everything in the courtyard last night." Her steps completely stopped, her eyes staring at him as they were opened to their fullest extent. He suspected such a reaction and swiftly turned to face her. "About how you're the reason your father…" He trailed, not wanting to repeat the rest since she knew. She lived the story after all.

Biting down on her lip, her eyes decided to look down at the floor. She couldn't find the strength to meet his eyes, who were undoubtedly judging her. "And what of my past does it make you speak of it now, my lord?"

"I've been wondering if going to war is the right decision." Robb admitted without hesitance, "But I don't want to go while unsure." Keeping his gaze fixated on her, he continued on."How can I trust you won't go against me? If you can't give your father your loyalty and you've shown much to Lord Tyrion, how can I know you won't betray me either? How can I know that trusting you is a fool's choice?"

His words pierced her; her heart felt like it was sailing on rocky waters and cannonball had blown a hole straight through it. Could she fault him? She couldn't find it in her for herself to be angered by his words. It was true, after all. She denied her father's wants, betraying him in a way, and his life was taken because of her. She sided with Lord Tyrion, who's dagger was allegedly his, and is now in custody of his mother at the Vale. Did it seem as if she known loyalty? That she could be loyal? Robb had every reason to doubt her and she did not know any words that could salvage those doubts.

"I do not know what you want me to say." Swallowing the lump in her throat, she fought not to look weak despite how she felt. Her eyes still remained looking at the floor though. It would've been more honest of her to give him eye contact, but she feared that he'd see how hurt she was by this. And her pride couldn't allow her to give him such a sad look, she did not want to manipulate him into trusting her. "I told you I'd give you my undying loyalty, and all I have is my word and the actions I make forward to prove it true. I can't give you any assurance other than that."

"Jon trusts you." His words didn't make her happy, single-handedly pointing out that his half brother was the only one who believed in her. It was as if he was saying that Jon was the only one who wouldn't look at her or think of her traitorous in any way. While that should've made her happy, even by the smallest fraction, it only proved how she was alone in this without him. "I want to trust you because we are friends and because Jon does, but you make it hard for me."

"I still cannot find a way to prove it to you by mere words." Amara sighed, "I can only show you." Her eyes finally found the strength to look up from the ground and up at his face. "I'm not perfect; I've tried to be, I want to be, but I'm not. I have faults just like anyone else, I've made terrible decisions. The death of my father… It should've told me not to be reckless but I still am. I make reckless decisions… I'm human just as much as you are. The only difference is, is that I have blood on my hands that cannot be wiped clean; no matter how much I claim to be on the path of atonement I cannot undirty my hands, my lord."

"Whether you believe me or you don't, I cannot make the decision for you. No one can." Forcing herself to smile, she let her arms stay at her sides. "You're a good person, Robb." He was stunned by the lack of title; the intimate notion of calling his name. "You're honest, you're honorable, you're selfless, and you… You give someone like me a chance even if I given you no reason to."

Amara slowly moved down onto her knees and abased herself on the floor. In Yi Ti, they did not bend the knee to their Emperor or Princes, they bowed or abased. That was their way of showing their deepest apologies, respect, and their absolute loyalty. To Robb, it seemed almost as if she gave not one drop hubris, that she gave herself completely to him. It left him without words and he completely lowered himself to lift her up by her arms, forcing her to look up at him. "You didn't have to go and do that."

Frowning, she wondered if that didn't prove her point. "It'll take time but I know you're sincere with me." His smile was small, but it didn't temper or change anything. He still didn't trust her in the way she wished he would, but at least he was going to try to find himself back on that path. "C'mon, on your feet now."

With ease from his assistance, she was perfectly on her feet and groomed herself quickly to make herself more presentable. His hands left her arms, going back to hide under his cloak at his sides. "I can be grateful that you'll try…" She said, sighing afterwards. "Even if it isn't at the pace I like."

He chuckled some, "Do you think before you speak?"

Scoffing, her brows furrowed as she narrowed her eyes some. "Of course, I do! I just say what I feel, why should I sugarcoat things with you, Lord Robb?"

"Back to that again?" Rolling his eyes playfully, he gave her a light-hearted glare. "You just called me Robb a breeze ago."

"That was Amara then, but this is Amara now and I shall address you as I should." With an elegant snort, she stuck her chin up and walked past him without faltering her quick strides.

Robb didn't follow her, he allowed her to leave for he knew they both needed time to think about what just happened. Amara didn't seem bothered that he didn't follow behind her, which meant that she wanted some time alone. Now that he was alone in the corridor, he untucked the wolf pendant from his tunic and tilted his head as his eyes roamed over the Grey Wind look alike.

 **...**

What happened in these three months was the King's death, and nobody had told Rickon about his father's arrest neither. He had no idea that war was on the horizon and his father dubbed a traitor to the crown. Amara did her best to distract him with training so that he couldn't pick up the gossips by the servants in the halls. The two of them didn't have to be much on the alert anymore now since Robb and Jon were busy in preparations and who they were going to gather. So, her time was spent distracting Rickon as best as she could. And it all worked in her favor anyway.

Rickon stood idly swinging the chain, looking albeit unsure of what opening Amara had told him to look for. Since he couldn't fathom of harming her without a weapon in her hand to protect herself, she had a dagger that she bought from Mikken. It cost her a bit since it was a sharp thing, but it was good enough since she had to replace the chain-sickle she gave to Rickon. It had been a few months now, Autumn still coming along strong with the air growing cooler before the Winter approaching. Due to the drop in temperature, Rickon had himself adorned in furs.

"Rickon, you can't stand there forever." She said as they stood in the Godswood. This was the safest place for them, and they had a spot where they buried the chain-sickle, so it was available whenever he needed it and not on Amara's person anymore.

"I don't see the opening!" He sounded rather frustrated, his eyes squint and brows straightening as they tried to meet at the bridge.

Patience was the virtue she had with children. All children needed patience, but Rickon was somewhat gliding on thin ice with hers at the moment. "Rickon…" She sighed, eyes closed and her shoulders drooped.

"Ah! Okay, I got it now!" Lifting the sickle part of the weapon, he narrowed his eyes at a certain pace as he threw the chain end, giving it a swing before he did.

The healer felt the chain as if it had a life of its own, wrapping around her arm and he pulled it to make it a tight fit. Her smile grew as he had gotten that part down since it had taken him quite a while for him to throw the chain but now he was good at immobilizing his opponent with it.

Seeing as her arm was trapped, she grabbed the chain and pulled Rickon forward with a bit of an excessive force, just seeing his little body fly towards her almost made her laugh. However, where an enemy might've doubted him, Rickon prepared himself so that as soon as the gap closed, he could swipe at her with the sickle and she had blocked the sharp, curved blade with the dagger, but with a tug of the chain from Rickon's end, they both came falling to the ground by the Weirwood tree.

"You've improved a lot, Little Lord. I'm impressed." Feeling the chain loosen until its entirety from her arm to pool on the ground, she saw the beam on his face.

"Really?! I was almost scared I was going to hurt you." Bless his soft heart, she thought, as she sheathed the dagger and hid it in her belt. "You're fast."

"Being fast is a great strength in battle. And with your size, you ought to be." She warned him, and he nodded with a knowing look.

"Everyone's leaving, aren't they?"

"Without a choice." She placed her hand on his head, "That's why you need to protect Winterfell with Young Lord Bran. We need you and Austin to be strong, help your brother any way you possibly can." It sounded surreal telling a boy of six to protect his older brother and his home, but what else could she say? Robb, Jon, Theon, and herself would march out of Winterfell soon and even though this place would be full of people behind to protect them well enough, but no one could ever be sure of anything anymore.

Rickon was saddened by that. Amara could guess that he felt like everyone he loved was leaving him. First his father and sisters, then his mother, and now his two older brothers. Although he had Bran, it must feel lonely with nearly all your family gone. "Why won't you stay?"

"I'm a healer." She tried to explain in a way he could understand. "War is… a very horrible thing, and I'm pretty good at what I do. I need to be with your brothers so that if they are injured, I can help them as well as the men that fight with them."

He understood her but that didn't mean he liked it. Rickon's nod was slow, absent, and she felt like holding him close until his little heart found a piece of peace. She couldn't do that though, she couldn't coddle him in a time like this. Rickon did not need her doting, he needed her believing in him or else he'd be too fearful to move forward; whatever path lied ahead of him, she wasn't in it for the most part.

"But all of you will come back, right?" His eyes glossed with a heavy sadness, one that made her heart ache. "All of you… mother, father, Sansa, Arya… Jon and Robb. You'll all come back, won't you?"

"Of course." It was wrong to promise him that but she couldn't look him in his eyes and tell him that they wouldn't. The whole reason she was following Jon and Robb to war was because she wanted them to come back. Well, she was going to make them come back.

Whether he believed her or not, Amara wasn't sure but he stood to his feet and didn't say a single word. Hiding the chain-sickle in a hole by the the weirwood, he walked over to her and grabbed her hand by the time she stood and groomed herself.

"You should start wearing your gloves, your hands are cold." She said, "Winter is coming, Little Lord, you must prepare yourself."

* * *

 **Fun fact** : Red camellias are hated by warriors ( samurais mostly from what I learned ). When camellias wither, they fall in a matter that is heavy and suddenly to the ground, which reminds them of a severed head falls from the body when it's hacked off by a sword.

 **A/N:** Still not sure how I'm going to handle Theon. Should he die or should he not betray the Starks or should he be able to redeem himself? So many options. What do you guys think?


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** I'm glad to know Theon is still loved. Surprise though! I bet you didn't think I would update so soon, but I believe I owed you guys two chapters since they've been so short lately.

 **Minstorai:** Since I'm meshing cultures, I'm having it so that YiTish believe that a beheading traps a soul because the hole left in the neck isn't considered large enough for a soul to exit. There was a quote I once read that said something to the effect that "the abdomen enshrined the soul", so seppuku ( as the samurais did ) or to die in other manner than beheading that is a popular form of execution in certain cities and Westeros would not be well-liked there for there to be a clash of cultures.

* * *

What did they know of war? Nothing. Not a single thing.

How does one know something until they actually lived it? Still, they were barely grown and unready. They were still boys and a girl with an army of seasoned men and inexperienced young men going with them to lead the charge to the south. It sounded unreal and it also sounded scary. Just imagine living it. Even though she felt fear as they rode on their horses in a column, Amara had not felt an ounce of regret. Even when Robb told her that she would be serving Head Physician, which sounded more like a female version of a Maester.

She didn't understand why he made her Head Physician of all things. She would've rather studied under a Maester who had more years of experience than her, but he said that if Luwin thought it wise that she should Head Physician than it was the best decision. Of course, she could always say her lack of studying in the Citadel had made her unworthy of such a position, but Robb just became a man-grown and was leading an army of Northern men. Experience wasn't exactly something they'd have the luxury of having, it would all be gained as they fulfilled what this war was meant to do.

Her heart was still very much heavy after parting from Winterfell. Rickon cried and refused to meet Robb, too afraid that Robb wouldn't come back despite her words of comfort these past few months. Even though she tried to prepare Rickon, there was no stopping the scared and soft heart of a child that young. Bran looked every bit as scared, even as he tried to look strong and ready for being Lord in Robb's place. It was the same with Austin, who swore he'd protect Bran and Winterfell. Children, protecting a castle? It made her wonder if she made the right choice and there were times that she was tempted to turn her horse around and be with the three of them.

Ros had said her goodbyes too, but she was going South as well. She claimed there was nothing left for her in the North since all the men were marching into war. Amara couldn't say she blamed her for leaving, but that also meant that Ros might never come back. Even when she embraced the redhead beauty for what she felt to be the last time, Ros still smiled and felt a warm as ever. She even tried to persuade her to come with her to the South. _"You could always forget about Jon Snow and come with me, but I suppose I'm talking to a wall of stone, aren't I? You'd follow him anywhere now, wouldn't you?"_ Amara hadn't told Ros the realization she had of her feelings, but it hadn't mattered. Amara could tell that Ros already had known, she was just waiting for her to realize it. It was written within the words Ros said and the way she offered her words of advice before she left for King's Landing.

Amara's eyes slowly looked at Robb, who was leading them all with protection of his bannermen right behind him and two in front. On his left was Greatjon and on his right was Jon. Amara couldn't see his face from here, but she knew that Robb wore a hardened look for what was to come. He would soon be meeting others who were eager to join their cause down Kingsroad. With a sigh, she then shifted her focus to Jon, and she could only see a quarter of his face from here.

What did Jon think of all of this? For the most part, she knew he agreed with Robb about this war, but now that they were actually going through it it, what did he think now? Was he scared? Did he have any doubts that this war could not go in their favor? What was going on through his mind shook her curiosity in such a frenzied manner, but it all came crashing like waves against the shoreline when a voice interrupted her thoughts. "Healer." Her head whipped to face Lord Umber's son, who was affectionately called "Smalljon".

"Yes?" She gave him a slight smile, trying to appear friendly. "What bothers you, Young Lord?"

He seemed startled by her overall politeness, it even made him grimace. "None of that, healer, call me Smalljon." Uncomfortable with informality of his request, she frowned but then flinched at his sudden loud, hearty laugh. "Not use to that, huh? Do the Stark boys have you chasin' their tails and calling them Lords?"

"I say it because I want to," She said first and foremost, "And because I have the utmost respect for them." Somewhat wounded in regards of her pride at his suggestion, she made sure that he understood her reasons clearly. "Robb is Lord of Winterfell while his father away, even when Lord Stark is arrested on false grounds does Lord Robb's claimant to such title reign strong." With a huff, she averted her gaze to pay attention to the road ahead.

"Quite the feisty one, aren't ya?" His words were borderline insulting, but she knew he truly meant no harm. The Umber men were strange, she knew, especially when Greatjon laughed away when Grey Wind chewed off his fingers. It had taken both herself and the Maester to sew his fingers back on, and she was sure the digits would never work as they once did but Lord Umber didn't seem to care.

"I wouldn't call myself feisty, but I have more balls than some men do." The smile she presented to him was rather shifty yet he seemed amused by her words more. It made him laugh at a great deal.

"Lord Robb!" He called out to him, making the oldest Stark look over his shoulder at him.

"What is it, Smalljon?" He asked, curious as to what entertained Lord Umber's son.

"Your healer," He began, looking at her from the corner of his eyes, "I like her."

Unsure how to feel about it, Amara sheepishly lowered her head. There was too much attention on her now, so many eyes on them that it made her feel entirely uncomfortable. "You sure it isn't cause she's the only thing here with tits that don't sag, boy?"

Her eyes narrowed at that as the men laughed at Greatjon's joke. It was fact that she was the youngest woman in Robb's army, but in regards of sagging breasts, she wondered if Lord Umber was scoping all the women as well to make a declaration such as that. The other women riding with them weren't warriors like Lady Dacey from house Mormont along with her mother Maege Mormont. "If any of you touch the girl, I'll cut your cocks off and stuff 'em down your throats." Her voice was loud enough to snatch their attention, and the smile she gave saccharine. "That is, if you any of you have any to begin with." Maege began maneuvering her horse so that she rode alongside of Amara, looking at Lord Umber and his son to dare them to try anything.

She was grateful that Lady Mormont came to her defense, and she gave Greatjon a teasing smile. "I would be careful if I were you, Lord Umber. Lady Mormont tends to live by her words, isn't that true, my lady?"

"I ain't get this title of She-Bear for bein' sweet as honey." Chuckling, Amara saw the look of horror on Lord Umber's face. Lady Mormont was a force to be reckoned with, so much so that Lord Umber may have been playing his game but he wasn't too foolish to fight her.

"No one touches Amara…" Robb hitched a brow, "Shall they try, they'll deal with me." When Robb spoke like that, it meant that the discussion was over. He began to emit an aura of a lord every day, so much more so than he did during their time in Winterfell. His presence commanded respect and he never made room for defiance now. "Moat Cailin isn't far from us now, once we're there we'll begin strategics immediately."

The rest of the procession was quiet then with few low spoken conversations. Amara wanted to learn more of this Lady of Bear Island; Maege Mormont. The woman was somewhat old, but she was still sharp as steel in mind. With her grey-hair fluttering in the wind, Maege Mormont proved more interesting than half the men that followed Robb. _'Arya would love to have met her.'_ She thought, making the smile on her face halfway into a frown. How was Arya fairing in all this? Her brother marching to war and her father arrested. Arya was a strong girl, Amara knew, but even the strongest people had breaking points. She was just a girl, a child, after all.

"How did you come into the fold, girl?" It seemed as if Lady Mormont was interested in her as well. Amara livened up at such a question, eager for conversation.

"I was taken to Winterfell by Lord Robb and Jon when Lady Arya was ill." She wasn't sure if she should go around telling people that the girl was poisoned. Who knows, the ones who were involved could've been in the column or those they meet later on. Amara would never forgive or forget that.

Maege then nodded, must've already known that Arya was sick at one point. "I thank you for saving Lady Arya, healer. The Starks are well-loved in the North and we'd be heartbroken to know somethin' happened to one of 'em."

"I see." Amara looked around, still amazed by the numbers they conjured up already and the more that was said to join them. "Lord Stark has so many people willing to fight for him; the North is warm despite the weather."

"And the South is cold despite the weather." Amara never knew what it was like in the lower-half of Westeros, so she couldn't agree nor disagree. It did, however, trouble her to know that Ros would be there in such a place where there were so many liars and manipulators. Ros wasn't exactly docile nor sweet as sugar, Amara knew, but she'd hate to think that the girl would get caught up in such a life.

"You've been to King's Landing before?" She asked, "I've only known the North during my time in Westeros."

"You're not from here?" Maege didn't sound surprised, "I guessed that but I didn't want go around assumin'."

"I'm from the Jade sea; Yi Ti." Amara answered her, "That's quite alright, Lady Mormont. I've been told my Common Tongue is pretty good, but my accent lingers with a few words. It was worse when I first came here, but I think I learned quite a lot along the way."

Maege smiled some, nodding her head in understanding. "How long have you been in Westeros?"

"Two years, it'll be a third in a few more moons." Amara admitted, "I came here when I was five and ten."

"Gods, how young were you when you left?" It sounded strange to hear a child living out at sea for almost two years. It was worse living through it but it became worth it in the end, at least Amara thought so.

"Three and ten. I honestly wished I traveled more but if I left the ship just to see the sights Essos had to offer, I'm sure I would've been lost somewhere."

"What made you want to leave your home that damn bad?" The woman's bluntness didn't take her by surprise. "Something bad had to have happened for you to up and leave home so young."

Not sure if she wanted to go into details with a person she barely knew, Amara tried to find a good explanation to give that was direct. "I was miserable, so I found a chance to escape and took it."

Maege must've took the hint because she nodded, eyes closed, as she settled for the answer given. "Life is not easy, especially for a woman in this world. I won't ask what made you so miserable, you don't have to live through it again."

Thankful, Amara smiled and felt relieved that she didn't have to go into the details.

The light of day was beginning to fade now, now that the sun was drowning into the horizon. The warm and orange glow of sunset began to soak everything in sight, and Amara felt it was the most promising sunset she had ever seen. Her eyes looked off into the distance, taking in the breathtaking sight as the sky was such a colorful palette of colors.

Swiftly climbing down her horse, she watched as the tents and banners were being raised. The sight of the direwolf sigil of House Stark on grey cloths swayed above them. The sight of the banners was making everything much more real to her.

Gazing at her horse, she gave it a soft stroke of her palm down its forehead and to its muzzle to calm her nerves. It enjoyed her petting and even leaned into her hand, making her smile as she sadly thought about her last horse that died because of that bandit commander from months ago. That was her first horse when she came to Westeros, so she still grieved for the loss after all this time.

As promised, Robb and his men were lead to the Commander's Tent and Amara had no idea if it was her place to join them or not. After all, she was Head Physician and so the plays of war weren't apart of her job. It made her think of Ros words again: _"You'd follow him anywhere now, wouldn't you?"_ Even if she wanted, she couldn't follow him to the battlefield and she couldn't even follow him to the command tent. There were always roads Jon would go that she couldn't follow, which made her wonder if she was only hurting herself after all by following him to war.

After an hour, she was brought to where her own tent was stationed. Amara warned Robb that she shouldn't have her own and that she'd share the staff tents, but he insisted on her having one of own anyway. He had been too accommodating to her, and she wondered if she should take offense that her tent was a few steps in distance from his. After all, he didn't trust her as he once did and so he probably wanted her close because he wanted to watch her. This was her only chance of proving her loyalty to him and she couldn't ruin it by the smallest of mistakes.

As she made her way in, she was warmed by how cozy it was since a fire was already made. This was her first time being in a war tent and so everything was strangely new to her. After looking around at each and everything, Amara had made way towards her bed and flopping down on it, curling up to the furs and the pillows that laid atop of it. The first battle would probably be tomorrow and she would have to stay behind, waiting if Robb and Jon would come back dead or alive. If only she could fight beside them… but they'd never let her. She was lucky enough that she was here in the first place.

Sitting up, her eyes widened when she saw Ghost. He was staring at her with his crimson eyes, tongue out as he panted. Amara still didn't feel safe around the the wolves still and to be alone with the animal had made her heart race and her throat dry. Why did Ghost come to see her? He usually kept his distance as if he knew she was afraid of him. Never did he come to her willingly and he usually stayed by Jon. Staying still, she watched as the direwolf casually make his way towards her bed and jumped up just to lie down with his head facing her.

Unsure, Amara furrowed her brows and slowly lifted her hand. _'It wouldn't hurt to touch it, would it?'_ But then a flash of Grey Wind sinking its sharp teeth into Lord Umber's hands flashed across her mind and she pulled her hand back like the direwolf was a flame. Grey Wind had reason to attack Lord Umber, it was afraid that the man would harm Robb due to the tension of their conversation. Amara had never seen Ghost harm anyone but it was still a direwolf; it wasn't a friendly animal.

"Why are you here, Ghost?" It felt silly to be talking to him, but she was curious as well as bored. Who else was around for her to talk to? "I don't have anything for you to eat." The wolf tilted its head in obvious confusion. Amara fought not to smile because even she could see how cute the action was despite her crippling fear. "Don't you want to be by Jon? I'm sure he's looking for you." Whatever Jon went, Ghost followed, but he sometimes went off his own. Grey Wind was forever by Robb, it was as if he saw no reason to not be beside him.

All she received was a bark in reply. Having no idea what Ghost was trying to tell her, she sighed instead. "What a new low…" She muttered to herself, "Talking to a direwolf is what I do in my spare time now days."

Ghost yipped this time, sitting himself upright as if he took offense to her words. Amara's lips trembled before letting out a laugh, thinking that he might've not liked what she said. "My apologies." Although it was halfhearted and was said more so out of teasing than sincerity, Ghost didn't seem distressed and nudged his head at her.

He really did somewhat remind her of at Jon, who would've been brooding if she told him something like that. Ghost was a bit more aggressive than him, but they were still alike all the same. Just thinking of that, Amara's hand slowly moved to the space between his ears and gave it a light scratch. The pristine white fur had felt soft in her hands and Ghost didn't make any moves as if he would attack her. He became docile under her touch and even seemed to be fond of it.

The wolf then moved from under her hands and let his wet tongue glide up her cheek repeatedly. Wincing from the sudden harmless incursion, she found herself laughing as he continued on. It felt strange but it was comforting all the same.

"I see you've come to like the wolves, Amara."

Her eyes shot open, her hands pushing Ghost from her so that she could clearly see the person who entered her tent. Her mouth went agape before a smile was given, "Lady Catelyn!"

The woman smiled and walked over to her, but was startled that Amara wrapped her arms around the older woman in an embrace. Amara wasn't sure if that was the right thing to do, but she was glad to feel the woman's arms returning the embrace. Things may have not been perfect between them, but the healer was forever glad that the woman was still alive.

Afterwards, Amara sat and listened to Lady Catelyn's story of what happened in the Eyrie. It relieved her to know that Tyrion was free, despite the anger evident on the woman's face about it. Maybe it was the Gods saying that Lord Tyrion was not the one to harm Bran, but she knew the woman wouldn't want to hear that. She already made up her mind and could not be swayed to believe otherwise. The woman looked fatigued most of all and probably needed rest after such a long journey, "I'm glad you're well, Lady Catelyn." Amara sighed, "I want to ask for forgiveness for leaving the boys behind."

"I do not hold blame for you coming here." Catelyn gave a stern nod, "I would like your skills should Robb or my brothers be maimed." Her eyes looked down, a sigh escaping her. "I should've never left Bran and Rickon. They need me now more than ever, but I cannot let Robb fight this war without me. He's still a boy and knows little of war and the games these lords play."

Nodding, she grabbed onto the woman's pale and small hands. She didn't wanted to tell Lady Catelyn how Rickon and Bran were taking her absence. As a healer she knew she should make sure the woman kept her good health, "My lady, you've been through much; as a healer and as a friend, I would suggest you get rest."

"I suppose I should." Her smile was small but full of appreciation. Gathering herself to her feet, she slowly made her way to exit the tent with Amara politely escorting her. "How do you feel, Amara?"

"Me?" Surprised at the question, she smiled and shrugged. "I feel fine."

"Are you sure?" The red-haired woman turned to face her, her blue eyes skeptical of Amara's answer. "War takes it toll on everyone, and I want you to take care of yourself." Lowering her head, Amara's eyes stared down at the floor. "You'll know pain, but I hope this pain will be useful to you one day."

She could feel the woman's presence gone, and Amara couldn't help but analyze the words. Did she have her doubts about Robb winning this war? What could she mean by that? Amara didn't have a single clue, but her heart ached at the thought. Ghost had nudged his head at her side, demanding attention. She knelt down and gave the wolf's back a few rubs, "You won't let anything happen to Jon, right?"

With a yip, Ghost began to circle around her, but the act didn't bring a smile on her face as it would've before. The fight will begin soon whether Robb or Jon would come back alive was really up in the air, but luckily the fight wouldn't be tomorrow. They would be heading to the Twins first.

 **...**

The days moved too quick and soon he found himself riding with Robb, Theon, and Brynden Tully to meet Jaime Lannister in battle. It had taken much to come here, when they crossed the twins, they had to make promises that were hard to swallow. Jon couldn't help but feel sorry for his brother, but he felt even more sorry for his little sister. Robb had to marry one of Walder Frey's daughters and Arya to one of his sons, a boy in particular named Elmar. Jon knew she would seethe with the fire of Seven Hells to know that she was forced into a marriage, and Jon wished it could be undone. Robb didn't want the marriage either, even asking if he could refuse, but a refusal meant he couldn't cross; he had no other choice but to consent. In some ways, Jon had been grateful of being a bastard at the moment and selfishly gleeful that it meant he could have someone in his heart without being promised and later wed to another; even if he couldn't unlock his heart to the one he was in love with.

He briefly thought of Amara as he laid his hand on the handle of his sword, wondering how she was fairing back at camp. She would be waiting for the injured now, but he hoped that she said prayers for their safe return. Before he left, he had saw her preparing all the flowers and herbs that she knew the languages of. She had even helped him put on his armor without words said and gave him a smile that had such a sad note to it. He couldn't say anything to her upon the fear that it would sound like a farewell; as if he would never come back. Maybe she had felt the same and that's why she didn't say anything either. If they never said goodbye then it would feel that would meet each other later on.

As of this moment, Ser Brynden Tully, also known as "the Blackfish", was giving word that he believed Jaime Lannister didn't know they were coming. It didn't make Jon feel that this battle was automatically theirs. They couldn't feel unstoppable just because Jaime didn't know of their plans. "He may not know, but he'll be confident of a win regardless." Jon said, "He has twelve thousand men in his arsenal and hasn't lost yet."

Robb furrowed his brows upon that information, "Twelve thousand men? On horseback or on foot?"

"On foot." Brynden answered, "They are scattered around the castles in three separate camps, with the rivers in-between." He then curved his lips into a smirk, "There is no other way to besiege Riverrun, yet still, that will be their undoing. Two or three thousand horses."

Galbart Glover then added, "The Kingslayer has us three to one."

"Should it matter?" Jon couldn't help but ask, "Is it a great risk for us to meet him?"

"No, it doesn't and it is not." Ser Bryden tried to alleviate their fears, "For it true he may have us outnumbered, but Ser Jaime lacks one thing."

"And what is that?" Robb questioned, his head tilted in curiosity.

"Patience."

Jon was well aware of that. Jaime seemed impatient and overly confident to an ungodly degree, making his dislike to the Starks known back in Winterfell as if he didn't care he said such things in their home. The way he smugly spoke to him when he mentioned the Wall, Jon remembered it. He would always remember it.

Mounting his horse, Robb soon did the same with his new squire, courtesy to Walder Frey's arrangement, Olyvar had held the horse for him. It seemed strange to Jon for Olyvar was older than both he and Robb to be a squire for a boy of eighteen, but it only served to prove to Jon that Robb was much more a man than a boy. They were men now, riding into their very first battle in their very first war.

Their first…

Placing on his own helm, his hands nearly shook as he held the reins with the thought of the approaching battle in his mind. Jaime Lannister had lived through a war, Robert's Rebellion and was more seasoned than either him and Robb. It might've sound foolish going to meet him, but Jon was sure that this battle could be won. He was more than sure actually, he knew it would be won.

Robb turned to Lady Stark, who watched him with the eyes a mother would have seeing her son off to battle. Jon had felt tremors of jealousy, so much so that he ignored the conversation they had because he was wondering if his own mother knew that he'd be fighting too. Would she care? Maybe she was dead, so what would it matter?

When his thoughts ended, so did Robb's conversation with Lady Stark. Jon waited, letting him ride ahead, and he behind him with their battle-guards. Jon's envy didn't end with Lady Stark; his brother looked every bit of a knight, every bit of a lord ahead of him. It was something Jon could never be, but it in some ways he felt proud of him. Proud and envious? It sounded silly but that was exactly how he felt. He would always be behind Robb; in some ways he couldn't help but hate it and also be grateful that he could help protect his brother as well as help him win for the sake of their father.

The Young Wolf as Robb was called led the charge with the Lone one behind him. Soon all of them rode behind Jon after watching Robb lead the column. Torrhen Karstark, his brother Eddard, Patrek Mallister, Smalljon Umber, Daryn Hornwood, Theon Greyjoy, no less than five of Walder Frey's children, along with older folks like Ser Wendel Manderly, Robin Flint, and Lady Dacey.

"This is not about the honor of your houses," Lady Catelyn spoke, "This is about keeping my son alive and whole."

Jon didn't expect for her to mention him. _'She might pray that I die in this battle.'_ He thought bitterly, but he knew it was the truth. She hadn't been as cold as she had been before, maybe because she wanted him to sacrifice himself for Robb. Maybe because she had known Jon would never let Robb die as long as he was around.

They read the map with Ser Brynden reminding them where they would raid the Lannisters for the last time. "A few hundred men, no more. Tully banners. When he comes after you, we will be waiting" He moved his finger towards the left, "here."

Once Lady Maege Mormont's warhorn let out its call, it warned them that the last of Jaime's horseriders had entered the trap. Jon looked at Grey Wind, who threw his head back and howled into the air with Ghost joining right beside him. He wondered if they knew that they would win and this was their howl to assure them that there would be victory. Maybe they were kind enough to let the Lannister knight know that he would be defeated today.

Greatjon's horn came loud in the far ridge, all the horns playing the song of what was to come. Jon had watched the arrows of the bowmen that hid in the branches of the trees of Whispering Wood let their arrows fly like rain in the night. They came down like raindrops, but with the intention to kill, piercing through any men their arrowheads had met and letting the screams of anguish ring loud in the air.

The men around them raised their lances in cheer, "Wintefell!" Robb shouted as more arrows were shot into the sky and soon they followed him downhill, with their horses hooves hitting the wet dirt of the forest in a frenzy.

Jon came alive at that moment, swinging his sword from his horse and cutting through anyone brave enough to come towards him. Jon never took to a lance, he fancied the sword, and it was the sword that cut through the men as if their armor were nothing. He even left his horse, taking the ground, and fighting any soldiers who horses were harmed or threw them off.

He had saw one of Lord Karstark's boys, struggling against the many soldiers that cowardly crowded around him. Torrhen was trying his best, and when Eddard tried to intervene, he nearly met a blade himself until Jon kicked him out of the way to safety. Relieving Torrhen of one of the Lannister men, the soldier charged forward, aiming to bring his lance down towards Jon's right shoulder. Despite the helm and the armor, Jon was too swift and moved out of the way, so that the man swiped at the air instead. A silver blade had flown thrown the night and towards the Lannister soldier, letting the wet sound of the blade cut through the man's flesh and his blood splattered onto the ground.

Torrhen, now relieved of the numbers since some of them went to attack Jon, had pierced his lance through one of them, straight through the chest. Jon had got himself caught in a fight with two of them, Eddard taking one of his own, while Torrhen was aiming to help with the others.

They managed to kill all of them, but that was until Jaime Lannister came into view. He probably avoided most of the lords, possibly trying to take them down in fewer numbers or one at a time. Jon narrowed his eyes some before looking behind him at Torrhen and Eddard, who readied themselves. "Leave him to me and join Robb." He ordered them, "The Kingslayer is mine."

"I'm yours, Snow? Even with all that armor you wear, I can still tell it was you; the bastard of the honor-bound Starks." The smug smirk Jaime wore had made Jon's ire rise, but he would not let Torrhen and Eddard die because of it.

"We're not leaving you with Jaime Lannister, Jon." Torrhen wouldn't listen, whether he spoke because he cared or because he was stubborn was unknown to Jon. "We'll take him down together."

"How sweet."

Ignoring the taunting, Jon shook his head. "No, you will listen to me and you will rejoin Robb. Your lord needs you, I don't."

Torrhen and Eddard glanced at one another, unsure if listening to him was the right decision. Jon listened to what he expected would be more words of refusal. While waiting, they took his advice and found their horses and fled to where Robb was during the battle. He could rest easy that they didn't die and that Robb would be protected. Lord Karstark would be on the path of destruction if his boys died here and Jon would be a in rage of his own if Robb should be maimed or die.

"It looks like it's just me and you." Jaime had taken his sword from out of its sheath, "Do you think your father will miss you? Well, he might be dead before he can."

Without letting another word be said, Jon launched himself forward, aiming to bring his sword down with all his weight behind it. He made the strike to hit at Jaime's neck, but he proved how much older and experienced he was when he brought his sword up effortlessly to flick it and let it catch his. They were hardly evenly matched, and Jaime had successfully thrown Jon back, making him stumble backwards. When Robb himself would lock swords, he had never been that easily pushed. Then again, he had to remember that Jaime Lannister was not a boy of eighteen. He was a grown man, a man that even killed Aerys Targaryen and fought his father.

Not giving up, he pushed forward again with his sword hissing back and forth through the night air of the quiet forest. The force of the attack were many attempts to cut the Lannister into several pieces so that they could be fed to the wolves. Jaime had worn a look of calm, but with Jon's constant strikes and with no moves to relent or let Jaime get an opening—his smug smile fell and was warped into a line of frustration and his eyes flaring with surprise.

Not letting himself grow tired, he let his sword hum and flicker through, cutting the air with ease. Jon now was much faster and smoother than he was before, and not a petulant child that wanted to hack the Kingslayer to pieces as he was minutes ago. He was beginning to think clearer than let his anger get the best of him as Jaime wanted before. Jaime's surprise had grew for he was truly stuck, and only at a space where he could only anticipate and block the strikes that headed his way; that all but left him no time to try and land an offensive blow of his own. He could not touch Jon at this rate.

Out of impatience, he finally thrown his full strength behind his sword, and lunged at Jon. Jaime had no idea that Jon anticipated this and twisted the side of his sword to make Jaime's blade sweep past him. With a snap of his hand, Jaime's sword fell, landing into the forest ground, and Jon moved his sword so that the "pointy end" as as he taught Arya was now ready to stick itself inside right through Jaime's throat. "Do you yield, Lannister?" Even in the middle of it all, Jon still held his honor. He imagined his father would've done the same in a situation like this.

"Do I yield?" Jaime scoffed, not showing an ounce of defeat even when defeated. "What does it look like? Does it look like I'm ready for lemon cakes and tea, Snow? You Starks think you're so honorable, but you're more like sticks in the mud. Wouldn't have been much fun if you killed the mighty Kingslayer? You'd probably be hailed a hero than a mere speckle of dust in your brother's shadow. As long as Robb lives, that's all you'll ever be."

Ignoring the comments, he watched Theon and Greatjon approach him on their horses. "You took on Jaime Lannister?" Theon said, his bow arm ready to release an arrow, but his eyes were wide with surprise. "I wonder if the Kingslayer likes being on his knees."

"I'm sure your mother liked to do the same, Greyjoy." Before Theon could jump off his horse and kill Jaime himself with his barehands, Greatjon grabbed the Greyjoy shoulder to keep him still.

"Tie him up, and maybe put something over that mouth of his. I'm tired of hearing him talk." Jon sighed as soldiers came and tied Jaime up. He looked around to find his horse, who was casually eating grass in the middle of the battlefield with broken and dead bodies scattered all around.

Mounting his horse, he watched them drag Jaime Lannister up the slope. Jon was relieved to see Torrhen and Eddard were still alive, but it seemed Torrhen must've been injured for he was clutching at his side. It hadn't matter, he would be taken cared of. When they reached Lady Catelyn, Greatjon and Theon had thrown Jaime in front of Lady Stark's horse.

"Jon brought the Kingslayer to his knees." Robb commented, smiling at his half-brother in overwhelming pride. "I'm glad you're with me brother."

Lady Stark looked at Jon with surprise, but the look didn't stay and she soon looked away from him and down at the Kingslayer. Jon didn't expect a thank you from her, but he was angry that it wasn't said regardless.

"Lady Stark." Jaime said, raising his head so that his eyes could meet her. "I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have mislaid it."

"It is not your sword I want, Ser," She said to him with her eyes ablaze, "Give me my father and my brother Edmure. Give me my daughters. Give me my lord husband."

Jon couldn't fathom why she would speak to him as if he would give her answers. Jaime Lannister a man with backwards pride, and with nothing to be proud of. "I have mislaid them as well, I fear."

"A pity." Her words were cold and her eyes looked away from him in disgust.

Jon eyed the Kingslayer before looking back at his brother. "What shall we do with him? I suppose he is more useful alive than dead. We could use him to get Sansa, Arya, and our lord father back."

"I would rather we kill him." Theon bluntly put it, "Take his head off."

"No." Robb shook his head, taking off his bloody glove as he gave reason to his answers. "As Jon said, we have more use of him alive than we have him dead. And our lord father would never condone the murder of prisoners after a battle."

"A wise man," Jaime looked relieved that he would live, but his smile didn't show it, only his eyes did. "And honorable."

"Take him away and put him in irons." Her words sounded more like an order than a suggestion.

"Do as my lady mother says," Robb said to his men, "and make certain there's a strong guard around him."

Looking back at Torrhen, Jon maneuvered his horse so that he could face him. "Your wound, is it mortal?"

"I'll be fine." Torrhen said with an uneasy smile, "I'll be fine as long as we're going straight back to camp that is."

With a small smile, Jon nodded before looking back at Robb for his orders. He had removed his helm, raking his fingers through his hair to move it from his face. His mother spoke in the quiet calm of a voice they always known, "We might've lopped the head off the snake, but three quarters of the body is still coiled around my father's castle. We have won a battle, not a war."

"But such a battle!" This was the most enthusiasm Jon ever heard in Theon's voice when it wasn't about women, "My Lady, the realm has not seen such a victory since the Field of Fire. I vow, the Lannisters lost ten men for every one of ours that fell. We've taken close to a hundred knights captive, and a dozen lords bannermen. Lord Westerling, Lord Banefort, Ser Garth Greenfield, Lord Estren, Ser Tytos Brax, Mallor the Dornishman… and three Lannisters besides Jaime, Lord Tywin's own nephews, two of his sister's sons and one of his dead brother's…"

It amazed him that all those men were seized while he was fighting. Maybe that battle had went on quickly in his mind because he wasn't sure if he could recall much of anything else besides fighting the Kingslayer. Was battle always this fast-paced? His mind felt muddled now trying to think of all that happened. "And what of Lord Tywin?" Catelyn cut through Theon's list, "Have you perchance taken Lord Tywin, Theon?"

"No," He answered, head lowered.

"Until you do, this war is far from done." She said, making sure they did not take this win too lightly. This was a win, for that it was, but there were too many battles to be fought than to celebrate just this one.

"My mother is right. We still have Riverrun." Robb said to them, "But for now, we'll be going back to camp. Let our injured men get their touch of a healer's hands and let our tired get their sleep. We will not stop until we take back Riverrun and my father and sisters are home."

A cheer erupted with Robb's words, but Jon didn't feel up to the shouts. He gave a salute instead, ready to return back to his tent and get his rest. His eyes scanned around for Ghost, who was at his side and licking the blood off his furs. The deep redness had been so bright on his white coat, making him look feral. Jon was sure the men feared the sight of him since Ghost and Greywind cut through a great number of men on their own.

With nothing more to be said, they made their way back to camp. The journey back had a atmosphere far different than when they first left. The men were happier and not as solemn like before. Jon couldn't help but think of a warm bath and some rest, he wanted to rid his mind of the severed broken corpses and limbs scattered around the forest floor, the mud that looked like a river of blood, and the smell of carnage… everywhere.

As soon as they arrived, Jon climbed off his horse and a servant took it away. His feet carried him to his tent as he removed his helm, letting his hair that stunk of sweat be free and feel the cool breeze of the night air. Once he lifted the curtain and was inside, candles lit for his arrival, he threw the helm and took a seat at his desk. His fingers combed through his hair as his palms rubbed against his face.

If he had been at the Wall, what would he be doing now? He couldn't help but think. Would he be a ranger by now? Somehow, the thought of being there didn't seem all that satisfying. Getting himself to his feet, he was surprised to see that Amara stood at the entrance of his tent. "What are you doing here? Torrhen Karstark was badly injured and he—"

"I wanted to see you." Stunned to silence, he watched as she let out a long exhale. "I've seen you and I'm satisfied." She said no more and left, leaving him confused and wondered if he just imagined that. _'Did she… Was she afraid I was going to die?'_ He thought, his eyes staring at where she once stood. He wanted to run after her to ask her what she meant but his body was too tired to allow him to do that.

 **...**

It was during the journey to Riverrun did they learn the news of their father. Nobody wore a smile and the air was thick, and heavy with sorrow. The wolves even howled the saddest song that Jon had ever heard, and Robb and himself hadn't spoken not a single word to anyone. Since Hoster Tully was no kin to him, he remained at the Godswood to talk to the Old Gods. He wanted to curse them, to interrogate them on why did his father had to die at the hands of Joffrey, who was allegedly a false king and born of Lannister incest. What did his father do to deserve such a fate? Why did the good die in the hands of evil in the most brutal of ways? None of his questions could be answered. The Old Gods should feel shame for not being there when his father needed them the most.

"They say the Old Gods can't touch the South because there are no heart trees." Robb said, which nearly startled Jon. Did he read his mind or did he share the same thoughts? The latter sounded more possible and Jon chose that one to believe in. "They couldn't protect father, but shouldn't the Seven have? Why did the Father not give our lord father justice? Does he intend to make us do that ourselves? Was it because our father prayed to the Old Gods that he did not protect him?"

It almost made Jon wonder if all the Gods were liars, and none of them cared about them. His sisters were trapped in the Red Keep and his father dead. "Does it matter anymore, Robb? Our father is dead and nothing can bring him back; not the old Gods nor the new, they didn't care to save him."

Robb's eyes lowered sadly, keeping his sword steady in the ground. Jon would've done the same but he he held no hope to the Gods right now. "And what will we do now, Jon? Who shall we side with? Lord Renly or Lord Stannis?"

"What does your mind tell you, Robb? You are Lord, and any decision you make, I will follow you." Although Jon had his opinion on the matter, Robb's words were final. Irregardless, Robb had to hold strength and he could not be a person that constantly relied on the council of others, not even his brother's.

Both of them had heard the sounds of feet crunching the leaves beneath them. Their eyes looked up to see Lady Catelyn and Amara, who had their heads lowered and were speaking to one another in hushed voices. "Mother," Robb called out to her, "we must call a council. There are things to be decided."

"Your grandfather would like to see you," Catelyn said, her voice hoarse. It sounded as if all the tears she wanted to cry out were trapped in her throat. "Robb, he's very sick."

Amara gave Robb a small smile, "Please go see him, he does not have long." She urged him and Robb wavered at her request. Jon lowered his eyes then, staring down at the woods' floor.

She had let go of Lady Catelyn and let Robb take his mother's arm, planning to escort each other back to the castle. The healer placed a light touch on Robb's arm arm with eyes that said condolences since words did not soften the heart of grief. Jon watched as let her eyes stay on them until they walked away before she began to walk towards him.

Amara stood before him before kneeling as he sat on a moss-covered rock. Amara boldly stared at him, and Jon wasn't sure what she expected of him then. "How do you feel, Jon?"

"Angry." He admitted, "I'm angry at the Old Gods and the new. I'm angry at the Iron Throne and the prick of our so-called King that sits on it without claim. I'm angry at the Queen and all that she had done. I'm angry at everything honestly."

He did even know how moist his eyes were until he felt the tears slip down. Amara wiped them away, just as she did the night where he was a drunken mess who said too much. She did not wear a smile like she did before, but instead a look of nostalgia for she had shed the same tears as he did once before. Jon realized that she knew his pain for she had lost a father too. It was rare for him to feel any sort of bond with anyone other than Arya for he was and always will be an outsider. He barely had a place at Robb's side and with their father gone, he could feel that place growing smaller until he was in it alone. Robb was his brother and they shared their father but he still carried his father's name and Jon did not, and possibly never will.

"Will you wipe my tears every time I shed them?" It was supposed to be a joke, but there was no lighthearted tone in his voice as he wanted there to be.

"I intend to." This time she smiled, "I did so before, so why not again?"

"Men aren't suppose to cry." His eyes didn't agree with his words. The tears might've rained slow and not like a stream of a river, but they still fell in numbers he wished they didn't. "Boys and babes do."

Amara rose a brow at that, "If you think I see you less of a man because you grieve for your father, then you're wrong. I didn't see you less before, so why would I see you less now?" Her thumbs gave light strokes, chasing away every tear that came from the corner of his eyes. "All men must grieve for if they don't, it'll turn into darkness and that kind of darkness never leaves you… It kills you instead."

Isn't that what happened to Robert Baratheon? He couldn't help but think. Robert grieved for Lyanna for so many years that he became a drunken fool, who held no true power over his kingdom and met his end by being impaled by a boar. Then the secrets that been hidden from him for a decade and some years was supposedly that none of his children were truly his. Queen Cersei would have Westeros in the palm of her hands just to destroy it in the process. There were others he could think of but his mind didn't want to think of all of that. It wanted to find peace, even in the smallest of forms.

In in this moment in the Godswood of Riverrun, he felt peace gazing at the healer from Yi Ti.

"Why are you so kind to me?" He felt embarrassed for asking, and the shock that came across her face made him wished he kept those words to himself.

"Because you've always been good to me." Amara's answer made sense, and it made him smile nonetheless. "Would you rather I be unkind to you? I can if that's what you prefer." His smile fell as her grin grew, she even began to laugh at the sudden frown he gave her. "Instead of wiping your tears, I'll pinch you."

"I would much prefer if you didn't." She nodded, her fingers having finished wiping away any of the salt droplets his eyes had.

Jon wasn't sure when it was when he fell in love with her. Maybe the first time when he had been driven to the verge of stealing a kiss from her. He thought it countless times afterwards but he could never bring himself to do it because his biggest fear was that such an act would make her hate him. Jon couldn't care if every other person in this world did, but not her. He already knew what it felt to be an outsider, to be alone, and Amara accepted him without question and stood by him when no one else did. Everyone had to give him up at some point, whether it was due to Lady Stark or some other means, but she never did. She even defended him against her.

"Is something else bothering you?" Her question interrupted his train of thought.

"No, I…" He couldn't even find an excuse. Jon couldn't say that he was thinking about her. He wanted to, but as always, he was too afraid to.

Within a few seconds, he sat still as she held his face in her hands. It was just a light touch, almost as if it was a wind's caress. Her face was right before his eyes, so close that he could feel her breath on his lips. "Your hair has gotten longer." Like a child, she twined his already curly hair around her finger. "It's a lot longer than when we first met."

"Robb would say that I never met a girl I like better than my own hair." Amara laughed, the corner of her eyes crinkling. Again, when she does that, he thought she looked like a mischievous, little kitten.

How is that all these littlest things made him want to hold her close, so close that he could feel everything about her. What her dreams were, what she wanted to do, and what she was like as a child. All the things that didn't really matter, he wanted to know.

"We should leave." Her parting words made him want to sigh. He was even more annoyed by the way her hands slipped from his face and from his hair, going back to her sides and taking with them the sudden warmth he enjoyed.

"Can we stay here just a little while longer…?" There were more important matters to be done, but he knew that he wouldn't have much of a chance to be alone with her after this. The war wasn't over and there were still things that had to be done.

"We can't." Jon frowned, knowing that she was right. "If we stay here by ourselves than someone will think we're playing the kissing game."

"W-What?" Startled, his eyes widened as there was a taunting dance in her eyes. "Kissing game?"

"Lady Catelyn told me that boys and girls play kissing games in the Godswood." Her eyes looked around, possibly wondering if anyone would come here and find them. "Do you want to play?"

Struck dumb, he felt helpless and was unable to even look her in the eyes. Amara merely chuckled, making him grow red in the face to think she was laughing at him. She was teasing him, he knew she couldn't have possibly meant that. Bringing herself to her feet, she wiped away at her clothes and he had done the same.

"Jon?"

When his eyes turned to look at her, she had moved to the tip of her toes and pressed her lips to his cheek. It was a warm, playful kiss because he could feel her lips curving up into a smile. When she pulled away, she wrinkled her nose at him and ran away, leaving him there wondering if this was all a trick of his mind or the reality he wished it was.

 **:::**

How did he get here? Ned hardly knew but his lungs felt cured by the taste of fresh air and the smell of seawater. He would've much rather been in the North, in his home of Winterfell, but he couldn't return to the place that held his heart. He couldn't even go back and see his family because he was a fugitive that was believed to be dead by the lies of Queen Cersei and her monstrous son who was now king.

The person who saved him, he had no idea who they were. They kept their face hidden by the shadow of their hood. He couldn't even see the color of their skin but he did hear an unfamiliar accent in their voice that told them they were not Westerosi but a native of Essos.

The ship rocked, but not enough to make him stumble. His leg was still a mess, but the stranger that saved his life had put some liniment made of what looked to be leaves on his leg. It was supposed to set the bone, but Ned was sure that his leg would never be the same and he'd be a cripple. It wasn't something he could find it in himself to complain for his little boy had it much worse than he did.

The only regrets that seemed to surface now and the main one being that he could not take Sansa with him and Arya being lost. Lord Varys had no idea where his little girl had gone and Sansa was still in the hands of Joffrey and Cersei. He feared they would harm her and say she had some part in his escape. Though this stranger tried to assure him that Sansa would remain unharmed because she was too valuable a hostage due to the war that broke out with his oldest boy leading an army.

This person knew a great deal of what was going on in Westeros, and he was sure that this person worked for a higher person. They seemed to following orders than they were taking charge. Whoever this young man worked for must've been a lord because he was making sure everything sailed smoothly and in his favor.

* * *

 **A/N** : Woot, a lot happened didn't it? I hope my Jaime Lannister interpretation was good. I was scared as hell writing him.

But none of ya'll saw that coming at the end, did ya? I was halfway tempted not to save Ned, but I did.

And yes, I kept Torrhen and Eddard alive because I hated how they died and I hated how Lord Karstark was made to be the villain because he wanted Jaime to die because he killed his sons. Yes, Jaime was better as a hostage than dead, but if that were your kids, you'd feel the goddamn same. _/StillloveJaimeLannistertho_


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:** Wow, those reviews! All of them gave me life. This a Holiday break chapter. Which means, the next one won't be up until next year since I'll be busy. Happy Holidays everyone!

 **Jean d'arc** : Of course! Although Jon is struggling with the whole bastard and shining knight of a brother, he'll always be there for Robb. Amara will definitely try to help him, even if it means they end up arguing all the time. I'm glad I made her feel believable in that way for you. Oh! I'm glad someone else feels that way. Honestly, I hated that and I felt like it was bad karma for Robb. I'm glad someone else is happy about that! And haha, he wasn't even meant to be but I thought if I was going to change certain people's deaths then I might as well be different how I go about him too.

 **Alright Hello** : I'm not even ready for this plot twist to be honest. I want family at her side too, honestly. It makes it easier to see why she's clinging onto the Starks.

 **Arna/** **AddaBlack94** **:** Thank you! I was never sure who I was going to make Robb be with. I thought I should go with the traditional having him marry a Frey girl since the pact is already made. If people would like him with Roslin or an OC, you guys should tell me. I think Talisa is so pretty and I think she could've been done better, I have the same problems you have with her too. Everything seemed so rushed and kind of selfish; there was too much going on to take such a giant risk like that. Thank you so much though! I love to hear that. Every chapter is making her more flawed and flawed because honestly, she's being greedy about her feelings. It'll come back to bite her though in many ways. / sighs )

 **Guest** : Ohhhhh, it will be. I didn't go into details how Westeros is seeing Jon or what will come out of that but I did a tiny biit this chapter concerning the Northern lears and will a lot next few. Tywin Lannister probably animorph'd into a lion so quick hearing Jaime got bested by Ned Stark's bastard and captured by him by him and his bother. I'm trying to figure out how I can make Tywin be canon as he goes about this. Oh yeah, I was halfway tempted to have Robb be the one to fight him and Jon saving him, but then I thought of that very line. The idea I originally almost had might've been the more interesting route, but Robb would be slighted by that a bit. As much as they love each other, this still too much rivalry going on in there.

 **Starlily16** : Omg, thank you for sticking with me! This means so much to me because I'm a shy reviewer myself, I can't find myself able to praise someone story because I feel like I'm gushing too much. Thank you, this means a lot! I'm blushing so hard! I'm glad I made her feel like a real character and I hope you continue to feel that way. I was always wondering if I was making Jon too soft, but he's a softhearted person and the reason why him and Ygritte were so intense was because it was an intense situation. I think it would've been different if someone was with him and felt like they needed him during these times in his life that he'd be hesitant and slow. Thank so much againn! Omg, still blushing.

 **Minstorai** : Thank you! I always thought it was cool, just like if you die then leave a window open so that your soul leaves. There's so much culture mashing I want to do but there's too many things I like. It was about time honestly, I can't have her loving a Stark but afraid of wolves forever. 33 Thank you! I wish I wrote it but I was distracted on what I was planning for Ned. Someone has to be the aggressor in this relationship, she takes all the risks. Yes! I did, and you guys have no idea what's going to happen now that he is. There'll be more of him soon, I just didn't want his and Jon's interaction totally left field. I'm glad you like the chapter!

* * *

In the Great Hall of Riverrun did they all sit, coming to council as Robb requested. Jon had only left the Godswood minutes ago. The healer had left so quickly that he began to think he imagined the kiss she gave him. It only made sense, and he ought to think it now and be done with it so that his mind could lay rest and be with Robb who he needed him. Amara had shook him from the grips of grief that shackled him since the news of his father during this time. He was more thankful to her now than he ever was before.

For a second, he didn't even realize that Robb was about to do something he never would've thought he would. He made him sit at his side at the Northern table, something that Catelyn had made wide-eyes at. Greatjon gave him a grin, saying he "earned" his right to be by his brother because he took down Jaime Lannister by himself. The high of that greatest accomplishment hadn't died and many men had drank to him and cackled at the idea of how Tywin Lannister felt by being outwitted by a boy lord and his bastard brother taking his knightly son down with his bastard sword. Greatjon Umber even said he was almost the "slayer of the Kingslayer" and how riveting it would've been if Jon was able to kill Jaime Lannister in those Whispering Woods and send his golden head to Tywin on a platter.

It felt odd, but he was drowning in pride; his name was being said all over Westeros for taking the Kingslayer down. Jon still wasn't even how he did that himself. Jaime Lannister was no amateur for he was considered one of the best swordsman in Westeros; his name may have been with disdain but the same lips spill his skills. Now the same lips will tell of Jon, who was much younger and just turning a man-grown, had brought Jaime Lannister down to his knees with a sword at his throat. Will there be ballads? Would this be just the first of many of accomplishments to the glory he always dreamt of? Maybe he could be like Daeron Targaryen after all.

What made him happiest however was that he had this honor of sitting by his brother with the Northern Lords. It was an honor, and one much too high for a bastard to be given. He was left speechless with Robb's smile the only sort of confirmation to tell him that this was indeed true. He couldn't believe. He couldn't believe…

Everything.

Before the start of the war, during the war, and all that happened up until now. It had felt like the greatest and worst dream that Jon ever had in life. In this dream he was making a name for himself, kissed by a girl he loved, and by Robb's side as if he were a trueborn. The worst of it all was: his sisters still trapped in the South, men they had known were dead, and his father's life taken by the hands of "King" Joffrey. It felt surreal to him and he wasn't sure if he wished a dream or reality. Maybe he wished both, maybe neither was best. Maybe if things gone back when he and his brothers were laughing with their fathers in the training yard that things would be how they should.

In the table of the Tully, Edumure and Blackfish as well as their bannermen took their seats. As said before, the Northern lords sat opposite of them with him at Jon's left with Greatjon Umber and Theon and so on. Lady Stark at Robb's right with Galbart Glover and Lady Mormont. Jon wasn't sure what to do, seated next to Robb, as all of them were all talking at the same time. It sounded like a convoluted band of animals; one speaker was higher than the other to have their words said and demands to be heard. All of them wanted a say of how they should approach their biggest opponent yet; Tywin Lannister.

And the doubts Robb had earlier, about which lord to help, Renly or Stannis came into question as well. Jon and Robb had listened to all their opinions as well as their complaints. The both of them looked deep in thought, trying to figure out what was right and what was wrong. When the both of them thought the same, they both glanced at one another with a look only brothers could make. Jon nodded towards him and Robb did the same. "Renly is not the king." Robb said make everyone silent when he spoke.

Galbart Clover didn't seem to understand what his brother meant by that, and so he said "You cannot mean to hold Joffrey, my lord. He put your father to death."

"Do you think my brother foolish, Lord Clover?" Jon spoke up, brow raised. He might've sounded defensive, but it was for Robb that he was. "Who we put on the throne now must have a rightful claim. We cannot just put anyone, and Renly holds no claimant to the Iron Throne over Stannis."

"My brother speaks true. It may be rumors," Robb kept his hands bridged under his chin, "but right now Joffrey is still Robert's eldest trueborn son." Everyone was hearing the whispers that Joffrey may not be Robert's son at all. Yet the rumors held no credible source known to them and rumors could be lies and lies can be proven false. "Therefore it makes the throne his by right, by all laws of the realm. Were he to die, and I mean to see that he does, he has a younger brother. Tommen is next in line after Joffrey."

Jon wouldn't like to see another Lannister on the throne, no less a little boy. Queen Cersei would use him, he'd just be a false king like his older brother. From what he did remember of the boy though was that he was not as evil or conniving or a glimpse of a shit as his older brother is. That would all change, of course, for Cersei were using her sons to rule, for that much was obvious. "Tommen is no less a Lannister." Ser Marq Piper said fiercely.

Robb had no doubts about that, and that's why things were so tricky. "As you say. Yet if neither one is king, still, how could it be Lord Renly? He's Robert's younger brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, and Renly can't be king before Lord Stannis."

"Lord Stannis has the better claim." Lady Mormont agreed with them.

Marq Piper, however, could not be swayed. He had his reasons, and he would tell them too. "Highgarden and Storm's End support his claim, and the Dornishmen will not be laggardly. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have five of the seven great houses behind him. Six, if the Arryns bestir themselves! Six against the Rock! My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the queen and the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, all of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?"

"The right." Jon smiled at his brother's answer. He was a stubborn as ever and Jon couldn't agree with him more.

Edmure hitched his brow, looking at both Jon and Robb. "So you mean us to declare for Stannis?"

Robb eyes lowered, head resting in his hand. He looked tired and still in a fit of rage that he was trying to remain calm for the sake of his men. "I don't know. I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer. The Lannisters killed my father for a traitor, and we know that was a lie, but if Joffrey is the lawful king and we fight against him, we will be traitors." His brother then looked over to him, "What do you think, Jon? Should we stand for Lord Renly as King because he has the larger numbers or should we stand by Lord Stannis who holds the higher claim?"

All eyes were on Jon now but he already knew what he thought of all of this. His eyes looked at everyone before he closed them and begun his explanation. "Honestly, I do not know either." The lords sighed, almost thinking that he was lost as Robb. "But I do not know how we can say either of them should be on the Iron Throne if we know nothing of either one of them. What makes Lord Renly a more rightful king than Lord Stannis? How do we not know we'll be putting another person unworthy of the throne on it? Numbers mean nothing. Numbers can be taken and numbers can be defeated." His eyes scanned the round, his resolve burning in his eyes. "Did we not just prove that with the Kingslayer?"

Marq Piper's eyes widened at that, mumbling his skepticism with his own backing with Renly now. "And Lord Stannis, what makes him any better? He has few numbers, so do the people really want him as their king? He has no allies, no allies like the Tyrells or the people of Storm's End. Is he really all that worthy? If he cannot get his own allies, why should we be his?"

His words had stirred them, had them thinking, had them talking. Jon wasn't sure that he was actually saying the right words but this what he thought his father would say something like this. This was also what his heart and head thought to be right, "So we'll let them fight, and who reigns victor between the two we'll back if _we_ find them worthy. We will let the Gods decide who'd be a better king between the two while we remain focused on our fight with Lord Tywin. And with the Stag who wins, we'll march with them to King's Landing if we'd believe it right."

Greatjon's laugh nearly filled the room and Jon felt his body jolt in then writhe from the man's large hand slapping his back, "The bastard is something else, isn't he?! The plan works for us, doesn't it? Our men will been have healed, and we'd have more supplies by then. We'd also be unstoppable too." Shouts and swords raised was the sight of approval of such a plan, and Robb seemed to think highly of the plan himself.

"We'll let them play their game of thrones while King Joff and the Queen will be too busy shitless from worrying about which Stag will win. They'll have nothing left to do when he sees the numbers doubled with our alliance." There was a feral glint in Robb's eyes, the scream of revenge was frozen in them.

"And what of the Kingslayer?" Lady Stark questioned when their cries died down, letting her words fill the silence of the Great Hall. "What will we do with him? We could ransom him."

"Ransom?!" Greatjon's laugh and smiled died with her words. "You want us to be weak?"

"That'll be us practically begging for a truce, my lady." Maege said, "The Kingslayer is our greatest hostage, we cannot give him up."

"You'd think they give us Sansa and Arya back for the Kingslayer?" Robb asked his mother, unsure if such a plan would truly work.

"Only the Gods know, but it wouldn't harm us to try." Jon could see the defeat written all over her. Even though parts of him resented her as she resented him, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Her husband was dead and her daughters hostage. Her boys were back home and Winterfell without family. How could a mother feel happy during such a time? His heart went out to her even though he wished it didn't. He wished his heart could turn a blind eye to her pain as hers did to him all his life.

Jon took a deep breath, his hands bawling up into tight fists. "We should do it. We should give up Jaime Lannister in order to have my sisters returned." He didn't do it for Lady Stark, he did for Sansa. He did it for Arya.

The room remained quiet as Lady Stark looked at him with wonder. Her eyes were glossy from unshed tears as her lips parted with words that died in her throat. "No, you won't."

They didn't catch the sound of the doors of the Great Hall opening, a man of thin body and short stature came walking through with Tully guards behind him. "Petyr?" Lady Stark said his name in surprise as everyone turned to look at him.

Petyr Baelish, mainly known as "Littlefinger", had came walking through. A smile danced across his lips as he held a long box in his arms, "There will be no need for you to give Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing because only one daughter, Lady Sansa, is there."

"What do you mean only Sansa is there?" Robb questioned, his hands pressed to the table. "Where is Arya?!"

"I don't know. Nobody does." Petyr said, "Everyone thinks she escaped when your father was killed." Robb and his mother looked at one another in shock, "But I do bring something that the Queen forced me to gift you, Cat. I didn't wish to do it, but I had little to no choice."

Jon's eyes laid on the box as his mind was still trying to figure out just how Arya managed to escape Joffrey and Cersei's clutches. It wasn't really a surprise, his sister was crafty, but where would she go? Is she trying to come back home? Jon almost felt like riding out and searching the the lands, forests, and hills of Westeros for his little sister.

Petyr had brought the box up to the Northern table and placed it down in front of her. He then moved his arms behind him with head lowered. Robb's eyed the box with intensity as Jon did along. His mother's hand shook when she went to open it; once the lid of it was pulled back, she looked as if every piece of her had died then and Robb's eyes looked like a blizzard. Jon stared at his father's sword, Ice, which was covered in blood and no doubtedly it was his father's blood. Laid next to it was a shriveled up finger with the skin nearly gone and stretched loosely over the bones. "They said if you keep the Kingslayer hostage that they'll return Lord Stark to you in pieces."

His eyes looked away, his ears hearing Lady Stark tried to muffle her cries with her own hand after she forced the box shut. "We should send Jaime Lannister in pieces!" Lord Karstark cried, "How cold can they be? Giving a woman her husband back in parts is unforgivable!"

"No, we will not." Robb said, "We'll be just as evil as they are if we do the same as them." His eyes looked to Lord Karstark, speaking as if he would not argue about this. "Jaime Lannister shall die, I say that with promise, but he will not die in _that_ manner. The Lannisters can have no respect, no hearts, but we will not be the same as them. You will not have Stark said in the same breath of likeness as Lannister. They'll meet their end for Winter is coming."

 **...**

"I wish you would lie still, Lord Torrhen." Amara tried her best to be careful with her stitching, but the son of Lord Karstark was making it entirely hard for her. It wasn't like she could blame him but maybe because of how she had grown, as a woman at that, she was used to feeling a needle pierce her skin. It made her wished they brewed that numbing scent when she asked for it and not when she basically stopped the bleeding and halfway finished stitching him. The only reason why she kept her complaint in her throat was because the medical staff was definitely understaffed in Riverrun. It wasn't their fault for most of them died during the battles behind Edmure Tully. She couldn't be picky nor could she whine or complain about it, but Lord Torrhen was only fanning the flames of her frustration.

He was argumentative, she known. He always had something to say every time she asked him to be still. He could never just listen. "There be a needle goin' through me, woman!" His eyes were narrowed, teeth bared as he felt the needle go through him again. His eyes were practically asking her how she'd expect him to lie perfectly still when the sharp pain of being pricked and a pointy, skinny piece of metal kept going in and out of his skin. The thread didn't feel all that great on him either. "I'm not some piece cloth that can handle stitches, healer. Give me milk of the poppy then."

Amara thanked the Gods for her composure, she nearly scoffed at his words. "You think I should waste milk of the poppy over this bit of stitching, my lord?" Her eyes rose to look up at him slowly, and bearing the most nonchalant expression she could summon in her internal seething. "Would you rather I let you bleed?"

"I-I suppose—" He was about to be stubborn, but the look in her eyes and the way her hands were slowly lowering the needle and thread made him quickly shake his head. "No."

"Then keep still." Amara didn't care if he was the son of Lord Karstark or anyone else. Seven hells, she didn't care if he were to be the king under her care right now. With men broken, battered, and going through another battle with their bodies, Amara refused to give into such pettiness. His wound looked painful, she understood that much, but his eyes could clearly see his comrades that needed milk of the poppy more than he. To waste it for what he had was the most selfish thing she heard all day.

He did as she said for the first time now; he was as still as the trees in the Godswood when there was no wind to sway the branches. He kept wincing and hisses were silent behind his lips too, even though she didn't care if he screamed as long as he stayed still. Amara would occasionally gaze up at his face, seeing him grimace when the needle would stick in. She wondered if he ever broken a bone before because he seemed to have lived a life where he hardly got himself harmed.

When she finally finished, Amara sighed as she smeared a paste made of lilacs over the wounds and stitches. Lilacs helped heals wounds quickly, and there were a lot of them in the Riverlands. She was happy about that fact since they didn't grow in Winterfell and the wounded needed them greatly. "I am finished." She told him as soon as she tied the knot of the linen and checking if it was secure enough. "You may leave, Young Lord." Politely, the healer bowed her head and kept her eyes up to watch him leave.

About to walk out of the keep, before the distance became too great and he reached the door, he turned to face her. "When will I have to come back so you can take out the thread?"

"A week." She gave a nod, assuring that the estimate was just about right. "You may need to come back before a week's time for I do not know when you'll be out to battle again. They might come undone, so I strongly urge you to pick up a bow for a while."

Torrhen gave her a nod, "My apologies for being so difficult. I'm grateful that you personally took care of me."

Her eyes widened a bit at the apology and she found her frustrations with him simpering down. "You helped save Lord Robb." She said, "I am more than grateful to you, Lord Torrhen." With a bow, she then raised her head to watch him leave before she released a long, tired sigh.

Amara scanned around the room, her ears hearing the groans of the wounded that waiting for her on the cots of the infirmary. The sight, the smells, and sounds used to sicken her greatly before, but now as it was becoming routine and she didn't seemed as bothered by it anymore. Raising her hands to look at them, she could smell blood and lilacs on them, which made her want to wrench her head away from the smell. You would think the lilacs would kill the smell of blood, but it seemed to make it worse to her.

Wanting to rid herself of such a smell, she walked towards the hand-basin, just to find the water hardly clean. Everyone had been so busy that the minimal tasks that held the most importance were often ignored. "Miah?" Her head looked over her shoulder to see the young woman who was diligent their work was wrapping a man's head with a roll of gauze. "Nevermind."

"What is it Amara? If you need my help, I am at your service." The golden-haired girl smiled at her, her dark brown eyes twinkling as they matched the smile on lips. Amara wasn't sure how this girl managed to stay happy in a room with wounded and possibly dieing men, but she seemed to find light in this situation somehow. Someway.

Miah was a girl of six and ten and followed Amara around whenever she worked. Amara was used to it due to the clinic in Wintertown when she had an understudy, and then she was a mother as well. In fact, Amara found it cute of Miah even if though she was just about two years older than her or will be in a few month's time. _"You're only seven and ten and named Head Physician? Can you do magic?"_ She said to her when they first met. She then called herself to be her apprentice, something Amara didn't technically agree nor disagree to. It only made Amara's job easier to have someone as diligent as that.

"I was about to ask if you could refill the hand-basin with clean water. Seeing as you were busy, I decided I'll do it myself." Before she could lift it up, Miah tied the man's cloth tight and then ran over to her eagerly. "Miah, please, I can do this myself."

"No, you should allow me. Someone else will be in need of you." Miah gathered it in her arms, making sure none of the water spilled for the edges. "Lord Robb—I mean, King Robb, told us to make sure we help make your job easier."

Amara had blinked twice, her brow raising. "King Robb? My liege is no king, Miah."

"He is now." With the way she was looking at her right now, Amara could clearly tell that she was not lying. "Lord Umber, Lady Mormont, just about all the lords call him King in the North now. They said they see no reason to give allegiance to the Iron Throne anymore."

What did she make of the news? Amara didn't have a single clue. She had no idea what or how to feel about it. If anything, if she could say she felt something, it was possibly confusion more than anything. Why would they want to split Westeros like this? That was the first thought that came to her mind after letting the words settle. Will there be a King of the South now? Perhaps a King of the East and a King of the West? There'd be no more Wardens but just a land of kings? It didn't seem so odd now that she thought about it. In fact, it'll almost be like her home with lands split with several rulers, but would it be good for Westeros do this? And if Robb were king… Just what did that make Jon? Could Robb legitimize him?

Her heart felt like it stopped in the middle of beating and sunk to her stomach. If what she thought was true then Jon could now be a Stark and also a prince. Prince Jon Stark… The part of her that wasn't so selfish wanted to congratulate him, to sing him praises, and be happy as she'd knew he be. Yet the selfish part of her that had been growing since she became aware of her feelings for him, just saw this was another form of keeping Jon away from her. Amara already knew that he could be a Stark one day before when Lord Eddard was alive, but the possibility was essentially gone because Robb was now the Warden—King now—of the North. If she was still a princess, she could've possibly been able to be with him, but what but what could a princess of Yi Ti offer a man of the North in Westeros? Nothing really, except for riches.

Amara wanted solitude now after hearing this news. She wanted to lock herself away and be pitiful; something she hated but she knew she was feeling sorry for herself. It wouldn't be fair to her, she knew, for many men in this very room were in need of her skills and her crying over a person she was never meant to have in the first place was just unfair. Amara had no one but to blame but herself because she knew the risk, and she fell in love with him anyway. Now she was being punished for it.

"Are you well?" Miah's voice brought her back, her eyes losing their glaze of thought to look at the blonde-haired girl. "Do you need to lie down for a while? You've been working since you've first came here."

"I am." Amara insisted, "I'll just wait for you to return."

Miah nodded slowly, caving in, before walking towards the door of the infirmary just to have it open in front of her. "Your Grace." She bowed to him as low as she could with the basin in her arms, and her voice made Amara looked up to see Robb coming and moving out of the girl's way so that she could pass. The men that were capable of recognizing him greeted him and Robb smiled and nodded in acknowledgement with eyes that told them to rest and focus on healing.

As Amara gazed up at him, she was starting to find him kingly looking now with Miah's words in her head. It wasn't just his armor, Robb just didn't seem much of a boy or even a lord anymore even though he wasn't one for long now. He had a presence about him, a sureness in his walk, that made him seem regal. It was like he changed overnight to her and part of her felt strangely sad about that. Not only would she lose a man she loved, she would be losing her friend too. Just the thought made her feel weak. It seemed she had to lose everyone that came into her life in some way.

"Amara." His voice made her force a smile, "You've been working all day." He came here to nag, she should've suspected that. "Take some time to yourself."

"I can't." Feeling the greasiness of her fingers from the ointment, it nearly made her want to cringe. "The men here need me. Why should I get time to myself while they are in pain?"

Robb frowned at that, which she expected him to. She smiled at his reaction though, almost thinking that she'll miss his honest expressions. He was a king now so he'll have no time for her at all. When this war was done… She'll probably see his face once in a blue moon. "You're human too."

"I know." With a sigh, she looked around and then looked back up at him. "Would you like to help me? Like you did when we first met?" Her eyes crinkled at seeing the realization in his eyes, and the smile that came along with it. "You were a good at it. I also think it'd be a good look since you're a king now."

"Oh, you've heard that already?" He seemed flustered by it. "King in the North is what they call me now, but I don't feel like a king. I don't feel like I deserve to be one."

"And why not?" She frowned at his lack of confidence, "Look at what you've done so far; you led your men to battle, you gathered the strength of the North. You did that, nobody else did. If they see you as their king, you deserve to be king. Nobody looks at some stranger and say that's my king and bend the knee to them without reason."

A look of thought came over his face, "What do you think of me being king?"

"Is that your way of asking me do I swear fealty to you? Shall I bend the knee for you?" The look he made made her laugh so hard that her shoulders shook. His face was red and his eyes burning her with a glare, "But I do swear, Your Grace. And I think you'll be a good King in the North."

With a nod, he looked around before taking off his gloves. "Well, since you've asked your king for help, I suppose I could spare you some of my time and help you with your duties."

"Thank you." Her reply was said softly as Miah returned with the basin. She could finally rid herself of the awful smell on her hands. Although what Robb had to tell her of all that happened in the Great Hall didn't make her feel any better.

 **...**

Whenever he thought he was at Robb's side, something would happen to show him just how behind he was. King in the North, the King of Winter, is what they were calling Robb now. When Lord Umber pledged his fealty with his sword raise and his knee bent, Jon had felt like nothing. His brother, who was not even Lord for a year's time, was now considered worthy of being a king to them. He was for the cause, Jon wanted to protect the North from Joffrey, Tywin, and Cersei, but he felt spiteful over the title of King in the North that was given to his brother. Here he was again, feeling proud and envious all over.

The halls of Riverrun made him feel uneasy because he was so used to being in the only castle he ever known; Winterfell. Not only did that make him uncomfortable, but he felt as if he stuck out like a sore thumb since this was the home of Lady Stark's family, of Robb's family. And with the way Lady Stark made him feel unwanted for all these years, he couldn't feel not a single bit of comfortable in such a home. Lord Edmure had been kind to him or perhaps maybe he pitied him. They talked once or twice when it wasn't about war and Jon couldn't figure out how Edmure truly felt about him. He was the son of the his sister whose newly husband stepped out on his wife and ruining her honor. Wouldn't he resent him? Jon would think but Edmure hadn't done such a thing yet.

"I keep holding his finger in my hands." He stopped walking as he heard Lady Stark's voice. "I keep hoping that I would feel him, but I don't. I don't feel him at all, Robb. It doesn't feel like Ned…"

"Mother, you're holding a severed finger. How could it feel like Father? It may be his but…" Robb trailed off his words, probably at a loss of what to say. His voice then changed, becoming even and somewhat cold. "I swear to give them the edge of my blade, Mother. You've suffered too much. The North will always remember."

A silence came but then dispersed as Lady Stark's cries ended it. "It's so cold… Your father may have been Winterborn, Robb, but he was always warm. His hands were never cold." She must've still been holding the severed finger in her hands as she spoke. Most would've thought it morbid but Jon understood it. Right now, he would've given anything just to see his father's face again. "My little girl is missing now… She knows nothing of this world and she is lost in it. I want to go home. I want Ned home, I want your sisters home, and I want you to come home. I even want—"

Both of them had turned to face him, making him lowered his head immediately. That was what he always did whenever Lady Stark was around because whenever their eyes met, he could feel the waves of her animosity. "I didn't mean to intrude." He quickly apologized, "I'll be on my way."

Lady Stark did not look at him, not even once. Robb lowered his head apologetically, giving him a nod as if to say that it was alright. He wanted to ask Robb if he knew where Amara went but now wasn't the time and he didn't want to make things even more awkward. So he decided to try his luck in the library here since she wasn't in the infirmary anymore.

When he reached the library, he pushed open the door to see Lady Dacey reading by a candlelight. His eyes widened at her face and she had looked up from her books to give him her full attention, "Jon Snow? To what do I owe the pleasure?" She smiled at him, "If you're looking for Amara, she's not here. She left minutes ago."

"How did you know I was looking for her?" Jon felt rattled by her words. He always tried to keep himself hard to read but his composure must've been slipping as of late.

"King Robb says the two of you are inseparable." Dacey's dark eyes, color of deep pine, had looked back to her book. "I suppose it is because you fancy one another, isn't it?"

"That's not true!" He blurted out, "Why would you even think that?" Even if her words were true, did she'd think he tell her? They were comrades, of that much was true, but they were still strangers.

"I'm no idiot, Jon Snow." She sounded so sure of herself, still reading as she spoke. "I saw you two in the Godswood."

He became still now. His eyes wide and searching around for something to stare at and immediately cleared his throat, "I don't know what it is that you think you saw."

"I saw her kissing you." Blunt, Jon wondered if all the girls he spoke to were so outspoken. For her to be a lady, she sure didn't use tact nor act like one. Then again, he couldn't fault her for that. Lady Maege was her mother after all and she spoke with the same incongruity as a man. "Twas' only on the cheek but it must've meant somethin'." The smile she gave made him avert his gaze, and inwardly curse that she had him cornered. "So were my eyes deceiving me?"

"Don't tell anyone about it." Although he wanted to say it like a threat, the soft part of him made it sound almost like pleading. "She was only playing with me; something about a kissing game she heard Lady Stark talk about."

"Ah, I've heard of that before." Dacey chuckled, "Sounds like an excuse on her part or maybe she was just curious to try it."

"What does it mean? The kissing game? Do people just kiss and that's it? Is there a winner?" Jon hated how curious he was of this or what Amara's true intentions were. Part of him hoped it was an excuse just to kiss him and not because she wanted to tease him as she usually did.

The Mormont heir tilted her head in thought before pressing her hand to her cheek to rest on it. "It's just a silly game usually little boys and girls play. How could you win at kissing? Your naivety is almost charming, Jon Snow. The game doesn't have a true meaning, but it could if you think about it."

Now he felt silly that a game like that could have a winner. He could feel his face heat up at his own embarrassment, but his curiosity wouldn't be settled with just that. "How?"

"Those who believe in the Old Gods get married before the heart tree. So, if you kiss someone, aren't you declaring your feelings for them before the Old Gods as well?"

He was stilled by that. For some reason, that seemed too bold for Amara. And just as he thought that, the little hope he had for Dacey's words to be true came crashing down when his doubts clouded. "Amara doesn't believe in the Old Gods nor of the Seven; she believes in the Maiden-Made-of-Light and the Lion of Night. She wouldn't declare anything to Gods she doesn't know nor believe in."

"Ah." Dacey nodded her head in agreement, "I don't know her well, so her intentions aren't clear to me if you wanted a woman's opinion." He was beginning to see that just because one was a girl or a woman, it didn't mean they exactly understood each other as he once thought. Girls were complicated to an insanely agree to him now, and he felt more lost than when he first stepped into the library. "Why don't you ask her yourself about why she kissed you? I'm sure she'd tell you."

"I don't even know where she is." With a sigh, he looked towards the window to see the fullness of a bright moon.

Dacey hummed at that before giving him a grin, "I'm sure you'll find her, Jon Snow."

His eyes dared to give her a glare before making his way out of the library but she caught the smile he made once he left out the door. He didn't feel tired enough to sleep and he wasn't all too familiar of which directions would lead to where. So he decided to go back to the Godswood since he had nowhere else in mind, and he knew exactly how to get there.

The streams here made the Godswood much more livelier than the one in Winterfell. If he could compare the two, he would say that this one had more life than the one at home. He still favored the one in Winterfell, and he still remembered the days where he and his siblings would often play in it. He could even picture his father perfectly clear, meditating with a look of calm on his long face. The last time he saw his father there, he had told him that he was sorry about his bastard title when he was just a little boy.

 _"You're still my son."_ He said to him with a voice that conviction. _"It doesn't matter what's after your name, you'll always be my son."_ And Jon believed him, but he resented him all the same. If he had just made him Jon Stark…

Pulling himself out of such thoughts, he looked up to see that the Godswood weren't empty, and he was glad. Amara was standing in the middle of it by a stream, looking up at the sky. In his eyes, her form was part of the scene; the moon, the stream, and the gardens of flowers of many varieties. You would've thought it a painting from this distance until her eyes moved to look at him.

"The moon looks really pretty here, doesn't it?" In a childish manner, she pointed to the sky as if he needed direction to see it, but then she pointed down to the stream's surface. "It's pretty; the way the moon's reflection sways from side to side, you'd think it's magic, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, it does." He didn't even look at where she pointed, too busy focused on the way her smile reached her eyes almost as if a star was twinkling in them. She hadn't smile liked that in a while for there wasn't nothing worth smiling about since his father went South. All it took was the moon to make her happy. "Do you believe in magic?"

She looked genuinely stumped by his question, her arms moving back to her sides. "I… don't know." She shrugged, "I want to believe magic exists, but then I'd find the idea of it unfair."

"Why?" Jon now stood beside her, his eyes looking up towards the night sky. There were many stars out, many constellations too.

"If magic were real then could you bring back the people you lost? Is there a limit on time or how that person passed?" She sounded as if she thought of it before, wistful and hopeless.

"I would do that too." He found himself sighing, knowing that wishing for someone to come back to life was fruitless. "But we can't get what we loss back, especially not people. Magic or no, that's just not possible."

"I know." Her head lowered, "Its just a nice thought."

It had gone quiet with the both of them looking up at the night sky. It felt strange to feel bonded with her over the loss of both their parents. She knew her mother where he didn't, and both of them had known and loved their father. He didn't know many people that he could bond with in such a way, but that's because he never really known anyone else outside of those that lived in Winterfell. When he thought about it, she was the first piece of the outside world that Jon had ever known.

"Do you see any constellations?" He decided to ask, his eyes looking at her from their corners.

Amara looked confused by the question and then sheepish. "I… I don't know much about stars." It was simple knowledge, and he considered her knowing many topics, but for her to not know astronomy was a bit shocking to him. "My father used to stare out at them with his Myrish eyes, but when I was young, I never found interest in them because I couldn't touch them."

"You only like things you can touch?" His brow rose at that and she began to laugh now that she realized how strange her words sounded.

"I meant that you can't do anything with stars but just look at them." She explained, "I always liked to explore when I was little, I was always seeking for an adventure. The stars can't take you on adventures, they just shine and then go away until the night comes again."

His mind tried to image a smaller version of the girl beside him, muddied, grinning, and exploring. It didn't seem right to him considering she wasn't like that now. "We believe stars tell us things in Westeros. Look, right there," he pointed, "that's The King's Crown. I believe these are the stars telling us that Robb was meant to be king."

"Oh…? That _does_ look like a crown…" Her eyes were wide in awe, "But that could just be a coincidence."

"If that's what you'd like to believe." He smiled triumphantly, seeing how she was starting to question her own thinking. The way she furrowed her brows and mumbled to herself, he wanted to laugh because she was too proud and stubborn to easily believe him, but she couldn't deny it either. "And that right there is the Ice Dragon; the eye of it points North but the tail points South. So the stars can take you on an adventure or help you find your way back home." When he glanced back at her for her reaction, she was staring at the Ice Dragon constellation rather intensely. "Do you see it?"

"I do…" She turned to look up at him, "That still doesn't mean I believe in the stars. I'd rather try my luck with my intuition."

"You mean you'd rather be lost." She frowned then, nudging his side as he laughed. "It wouldn't hurt for you to trust them, even just a little."

She shrugged her shoulders. "If I trust them then you'll be to blame if the stars lie to me."

"Stars never change, so they'll never lie."

"You have to tell a lie once in awhile. Nobody is always honest, and the stars must be the same." Jon was disappointed by her lack of fantasy or the hidden message in between. All he wanted was for her to know that she could put her trust in him because he'd never lie to her.

With a sigh, he decided to let the subject of stars go. "You're so bull-headed, I swear."

"Didn't you know? It is one of the things that make me so lovable." She was joking, he knew, but he almost dared to say that she was right. Her fierce stubbornness was just one of the many things he loved about her. "Though our king would beg to differ, he would say it drives him mad."

Jon couldn't agree with her more. Robb hated her stubborn streak, so much so that they were at odds because of it every now and then. "I want to ask you about what happened earlier."

"About when I kissed you?"

His face felt warm and he felt flustered by her forthright ways when it came to things like this. Why couldn't she be demure? It would've made it easier on him if she was just as shy as he was about it. "Why did you?"

"I told you Lady Catelyn told me about a kissing game." She repeated it, making him feel that she kissed him more out of teasing than she did out of having feelings for him. "I don't know what the point in the game was, but I wanted to play it with you." Before he could even ask her why, she turned to him as if she knew he was going to question her further. "I just wanted to, and so I did."

Those eyes of hers gazed at him were ever so serious that they pierced him. His mind kept asking him if he was going to be a coward again, right when she was so close to him and told him that she wanted to kiss him. If that wasn't a sign that she did have feelings for him then what was? How many times was he going to let her be the brave one and him be the cautious one? Grabbing onto her shoulders, gently despite the impatience he held, he peered down at her as he began to lessen the distance between them until they were close enough for their noses brush against each others.

His eyes couldn't find themselves able to close as he knew they should, he was too busy staring at her widened eyes that were illuminated by the moonlight. He was close, close enough to get a taste and feel of her lips, but the both of them broke out of their trance once they heard the snap of a few branches and footsteps.

Amara was always easily scared, and she was so scared that she ended up pushing him with a force he didn't know someone of her height and build could muster. Jon lost his footing and landing straight into the stream. He was soaked from head-to-toe and she looked at him wide eyed and apologetically with her hand clamped over her mouth. Those that came and interrupted them were none other than Theon and Torrhen Karstark, who were both biting down on apples and looking at the two with confused but curious expressions.

"Snow, were you trying to go for a swim?" Jon could hear the smirk before he could even see it, and nobody knew just much he was seething inside right now. He slid his wet, curly hair back before glaring up at Theon with eyes that could've make him turn to ash if it were possible.

"I suppose it is a bloody good night for one." He spat as Amara rushed over, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet. She kept muttering her apologies, cringing more so out of embarrassment that she had pushed him.

"I didn't mean to…" He didn't fault her, at all. He shook his head with a small smile even though he wanted to laugh. He couldn't do it with an audience, they just took all the good feelings he had out of it.

"I know." He said to calm her, but she was still unable to forgive herself from what he could see.

Theon and Torrhen looked at one another once more. "Looks like he got rejected to me, doesn't it? Why else would a girl throw you in the damn river?" Despite them both acting as if they were whispering, Amara and Jon heard them well enough. Maybe it was because of how empty the Godswood was or maybe they were talking loud enough for them to hear on purpose.

"Did you know, Lord Torrhen?" The Greyjoy raised a hand, acting as if he was whispering still. "Jon has been puppy-eyed for the healer for quite some time."

"We can hear you, Theon." Amara stared at them both, a frown on her lips as Jon rung out his cloak.

"We didn't mean to interrupt you two with… _whatever_ you were doing." Torrhen seemed honestly apologetic, confused, but apologetic. Theon however…

He took another bite of his apple, wearing the biggest and stupidest grin Jon had ever seen him make. This grin was worse than the others he had seen over the years, he really wanted to knock it off his face or wished the apple get itself lodged in his throat by some off-chance. "I always knew she was your woman, Snow."

"Shut up." Even though he was angry that the two of them ruined what could've been, he couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness or more like relief at the idea of Amara being his.

 **:::**

Sansa would spend the days sitting by the window of her bedchambers, wondering if jumping out of it would solve everything. The last bit of hope she had died along with her father, who she heard was dead while eavesdropping on the Queen. _"We'll send pieces to them until they return Jaime, my sweet boy. We can't let the Starks keep him and we can't let them feel like they've got the upper-hand. We still have Sansa, and any wrong move from them will bring the end of her."_ The only places she could find solace in this place she came to hate was the sept and the garden, but praying to the Gods or gazing at the beauty of flowers did not change a single thing. It could not make time go back and it could not make her father alive and whole.

The smell of the garden used to make her happy. It hadn't been that long ago where she walked with a smile with Jeyne and Septa Mordane, talking about how she'll soon be marrying her then prince and imagined how many people would come to her wedding. Now the thought of it seemed like a nightmare. How could she marry the boy who named her father a traitor and then had him killed? And his queen mother that she once admired showed her true colors. It sickened her that Arya had been right about them. And now Arya was gone, and Sansa wondered if she would ever see her again. Even if her sister had been wild and crazy, and entirely different than what she wanted in a sister, she was still her sister and she wished she ran away with her.

Sansa kept her strides slow and her head low with her eyes not looking at anything. Robb would come for her soon, she thought, and that's what made her smile. Robb, Jon, her lady mother, and Amara would all come to save her. Now her mind couldn't help but think of the times Amara tried to warn her about her feelings, and now she knew she would have to tell the healer she was right. Her thoughts kept her so busy that she had noticed that someone definitely stood before. She ended up walking right into into them, her head hitting against the wall of their back. "I'm sorry!" She quickly apologized, almost afraid that she might've run into Joffrey or worse, the Queen. Her head remained low, her eyes frantically looking at the ground. "I didn't mean—"

Her chin was being held by the softness of bony fingers, her head was being forced to tilt up so that her eyes could meet the stranger that stood leaning over her like a tower. Her blue eyes widened as she took him in, feeling awed as well as afraid of him. He looked back at her, lowering his head with his hair a shiny black and framing his face. His eyes looked as if the sun was trapped in them and she felt compelled to look away or else she'd just stare into them for as long as he would've allowed it.

"Pretty girl, but aren't you a little too timid on such a beautiful day?"

There was an roguish tone in his voice, which made her annoyed and greatly flustered. Even though Sansa didn't want to look at him, her eyes stared away at him, and much more fiercely this time. "I suppose you do not know who I am." She said, wondering if he knew that she was Sansa Stark and literally a hostage. Why else would a girl be so timid? Her life was literally in the hands of evil.

"Why of course I do." He said matter-of-factly, his full lips had curved into a lopsided-grin. "You're Sansa Stark, and just the person I've looking for."

Now she was frightened and she pulled herself away, but the warmth of his fingers still lingered on her chin. She tried to rub it away, to make the warmth become cold like the palm of her hands. The warmth of where he touched her wouldn't leave and she felt like he stained her. "W-What do you want with me?"

"To save you, of course."

She didn't believe him, not for a second. "Liar." Her voice was low, muttering it, for she was too afraid to anger this person unknown to her.

"I've never been called a liar before." His did a curious tilt, "That's definitely a first but I mean it, my lady. I'm here to rescue you. You see, I owe your father a debt and he told me to save you."

"My father?" Sansa's eyes widened, almost wanting to call him a liar again but loud in his ears this time. Why would her father entrust some strange boy to rescue her? He would never do that. Her father loved her too much to let her be in the care of some strange person. "My father wouldn't trust a stranger with me! You lie!"

Rolling his eyes, he scratched the side of his head with his eyes shut. "What the hell am I to do with her? I told them this wouldn't work. Nobody ever listens to me. They think that because I'm young that I don't give sound advice. You know what? To hell with them."

"Them? Who is _them_?" She questioned, "What do they want with me? Why are you here to take me?" Now she was beginning to panic. What if Joffrey hired him to kill her or worse, someone other people wanted her dead for being a traitor's daughter? "I've done nothing wrong! I'm not a traitor! I'm good, I swear it! I'm good!"

The look he gave her was a look of a lazy glower, as if he was too lazy to feel angry or more like too angry to fight, "If you want to stay here then I won't stop you." He shrugged, "By your leave, my lady." With a sluggish bow she had ever seen, he turned to walk away and whistled a tune unfamiliar to her. It sounded sweet to her ears with the soft highs and deep lows of its melody.

As she watched the tall boy leave, Sansa stood there unsure of what to do. If he was her chance to leave this place, shouldn't she take it? But what if he wanted to kill her? Sansa guessed that he could've done it now instead of later. "Wait!" Her hand reached out to him to beg him to stop, and he froze on the last step before looking at her over his broad shoulder. "Where will you take me?"

"Across the sea to Volantis."

"Why Volantis?" She asked with her brows furrowed, "Why won't you take me to my family? The last I heard, my brothers and my mother are in Riverrun."

"Do you think we'll make it to the Trident before the King and Queen Regent knows you're missing?" He asked with his thick brow arched and the look in his eyes made her body feel aflame in anger. Why did he seem as if he knew something she didn't? There was something more to him than he was letting on.

"I'll go with you to Volantis." Sansa said weakly, shoulders low. "I just want to leave. Take me away from here."

He smiled then, walking towards with quick steps before stopping abruptly in front of her. "Now _that's_ what I like to hear." Sansa had no idea what to think of him, she felt like she should hate him but felt grateful towards him all the same. Her hopes of seeing her family again as well as her freedom did rest in his hands now. She just hoped she was making the right decision of going with him. "I want you to wait for me by the balcony during the second hour of the moon's reign." She nodded. "Could you wear something dark?" She nodded once again. " _And_ you have to kiss me right when the boat leaves the harbor."

"Kiss you?!" With her cheeks burning the color red, she frowned when he began to laugh. It sounded cruel and it made her feel angry as well as awkward. "What are you so mean to me? What is wrong with you?!"

"I'm only pulling your leg, my lady. You don't have to kiss me."

Sansa looked up at him up close. His fearless, masculine features were much more charming when he was in front of her, but his voice sounded like a soothing touch and a hand inching close to a fire. You enjoy it but you fear it all the same.

The boy turned to leave again and this time he did not walk as if he wanted her to stop him, but she wanted to anyway. "Wait!" She said, "you never told me your name?"

"My name?" He questioned, honestly confused. "Do you _really_ want to know it?"

"Yes, I do. What else would I call you?" Her eyes kept drinking up his form, waiting for him to give her the answer.

The dazzling sun illuminated his face when he turned to look at her, making her eyes squint as if she was seeing three suns. "My name is of no importance, Lady Sansa, but if you're just _dying_ to know." He paused, leaving her at the edge of anticipation, "The name my father gave me is Naran."

* * *

 **A/N** : I honestly don't know if Naran x Sansa is going to be a thing. I like to think he gets off on teasing her, but I'll let you guys decide who either one would be good with because I have no idea. Just like I have no idea if I should make an OC for Robb or have him marry Roslin too. I'll leave certain couple decision to you guys since I like interacting with you all, I just might make a poll on these things.

Naran though. His personality is probably not how you guys expected it to be. He's fifteen, which means Amara left him when he was nine. He stands at 6'6" because of his Lengii genetics, where men are canonically 7 - 8 ft tall. Like hell. Can you imagine him standing next to Amara and she's only 5ft at 7ft?! The only people she's taller than is Austin, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. All of them will probably grow taller than her too.

But honestly, if I could cast Amara's family. It would be:

Chen Kun as Atlan

Adrianne Ho as Yara

Lee Min-ki as Naran


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** Happpy New Year everyone! I hope everyone enjoy the holidays, I know I did. Oh, and yes, there's a new cover to this story because I finally found a younger FC that I thought suited Amara the best. And now we're at season two and onward. Woo!

 **Lovinurbuks** : Awwww shucks! Thanks. That's okay, it's obvious you like the ones that got fight in them. I adore her though, she makes me want to protect her since Arya and the Dorne girls are strong enough to fend for themselves. I was almost wondering if people are tired of the Robb/OC Frey pairing since it happens a lot. I do have a person in mind if I do go without that route. And thank you for the holiday wishes!

 **Salvatoresister887** : That does sound cute. Roslin seems to be shy, so I think for her to find someone to befriend during a time like this would be sweet to work out. I'm glad you are, I kind of like the idea of them but then I also feel like being evil and having them not be together. Fan BingBing ( mainly in her role in the white-haired witch of the lunar kingdom ), to me at first, felt like how I envisioned her as older but Zhang Xinyuan is everything I imagine as a younger version.

 **AddaBlack94** : Robb and Margaery are the dream pair in Catelyn's eyes too, and I like the idea of that. Though I think if I went with that, I should've prepared for it long ago so Renly wouldn't even try to become king because of Loras' encouragement and that also means Renly would've never tried to get Margaery with Robert too ( as he planned prior to the series ). She could change so much and I think she is confident enough to be Robb's queen off the bat, she's not someone that needs to be built up for the role. Then there's also the fact that Cat was there when Renly died, so the Tyrells were wary of the Starks at that time too, which doesn't help. The whole Margaery x Robb situation could only happen if two people on the Iron Throne that the Tyrells couldn't fight nor push her onto, and the way I'm going about this story, it's possible of that. That also means that Robb's first wife would probably have to die too if it were to happen or if he, like you said, has an army big enough to annul the betrothal for him and the Frey girl. So many possibilities!

 **Xenocanaan** : Thank you!

* * *

King's Landing was equally at beautiful at night as it was during the day. Maybe it was because of the vast ocean that looked like it stretched forever like the sky or maybe it was the way the moon was hovering over the bluest ocean, its reflection bright and waving on its surface. Sansa knew that if that boy, Naran, spoke the truth and was not there to tease her about freedom or secretly worked for the queen, then this might be the last time she absorbed such a breathtaking sight. Sansa stood in the middle of her chamber, donned in a plain dress of black that she promised to wear, with her hair tied back. Her black cloak was snug on her shoulders, the thin material of the hood between her fingers as she soon placed it over her head.

She thought of him, this Naran, hours after she met him. He had eyes equivalent to the sun and pale skin that could easily tan for spending long hours in the day. His eyes were prominent without the odd color of his irises, and they were big as well as slant. His countenance was like a mischievous, little boy but she couldn't help but not doubt him. Sansa wasn't sure if it was because her fear was so overwhelming to her that she trusted him or because she was stupid. She had been stupid a lot lately, and part of her wanted to write a letter to Amara before she left just to tell her she wished she listened to her. Even though the healer had no idea how monstrous Joffrey was or how heinous his actions could be, she still did right by trying to warn Sansa that he possibly wasn't all that she dreamed him to be.

Amara wouldn't fault her, she thought. Her mother would understand too, but Sansa didn't want to lay all her problems on her mother who had to grieve for father and now had to make sure Robb made it out of this war alive. She knew the healer would hold her and tell her that nothing was her fault and that she couldn't have known what would happen. Sansa knew that she would console her without question, tell her the worst nightmare that she ever dreamed was reality in truth, was all behind her now. Sansa so desperately wanted to be held by such a familiar force and to be in Winterfell again. She missed her home; she missed everything, and she wished her father was still here. He died thinking that she hated him and that was the worst feeling in the world. Sansa could never forgive herself for that.

In the middle of her reverie, the door to her room had opened slowly, creaking as it did. Slipping through the small crack was Naran. He stood before her with swords that looked like hooks and were covered and dripping with crimson liquid, making a puddle of blood for each second he stood there. His face had spots of blood on it and she wasn't sure if it was his or belonged to someone else. With a gasp, she quickly ran over to him and studied his face for any sight of injury. "W-Why are you covered in blood?"

"Well…" A stupid, at least she thought it was, grin spread across his lips. "I thought I was stealthy but some of the guards caught me. I'm gonna hear about this, and we aren't going to leave out of here quietly as planned."

Her eyes widened at that and her body went rigid with fear. How could he say that so casually? Didn't he know how much danger they were in now? This mission was already reckless and dangerous, but now it seemed almost impossible. "W-We can't leave then! You have to get out of here! If someone finds you here—"

"I'm not leaving without you." There was nothing romantic about his words. Sansa always imagined a man who loved her, worshipped the ground she walked on, would say that to her with whole sincerity. Naran was no handsome knight here to whisk her way. He was not of the stories she was read to as a little girl. He was a boy with a mission with her as the objective.

Placing one sword back in its strange scabbard, his large hand wrapped around her wrist and jerked her forward. They were out the door of what Sansa deemed her overly decorated cell, and just leaving it made her thought that breathing was completely impossible. Everything was about to go wrong. She was certainly going to die here. Sansa didn't want to die. She wanted to live! She wanted so desperately to live, but her life was in the hands of a boy she had just met.

Lannister guards began to fill the hallway, she thought all of them as the Stranger in multiple forms to warn them of their impending death. Even though she was rattling with fear, eyes ready to cry tears she didn't think she had left, Naran looked entirely unbothered by the sight of them. No, he was wearing that stupid grin of his, and had a tight grip on his hook sword. "Stay here, my lady." He softly said to her, his eyes staying glued to the men before him once he left her side.

"Are you mad?!" She questioned with a yell, but he didn't listen. The boy foolishly ran forward and Sansa covered her face, afraid to see what the Lannister guards would do to him. He was going to die, she was so sure of it. And she was already shedding tears because freedom was just an illusion here. How many people would have to die? Sansa couldn't take anymore deaths.

Naran unsheathed his other twin sword, having both of them in his hands as he closed the distance between him and the lion-masked guards. His left sword sunk its sharp prong hook into the sword hand of one guard, and the right one sunk into the neck of another. With a spin, he lifted the one who had his sword lodged into their neck and threw it to a group of three, knocking them down with ease. With the right sword, dripping with the blood of one, he lodged it into the neck of the one he had trapped by the hand.

"Lion guards, aren't you? I see nothing fierce. I see a bunch of idiots if you ask me." Sansa removed her small hands from away from her face, seeing Naran bravely standing before a rather bloody sight. Her eyes widened as he continued to take down each guard that came rushing forward, knocking the swords out of their hands with complete ease. He moved fluidly, as if he were dancing, and the blood splattered the beautiful walls and the shiny floors like paint to a canvas.

It was the most strange yet beautiful sight she had ever seen.

When all the guards had been killed, he turned to her with one sword resting on his shoulder. "Am I still mad?"

Her lips wanted to twitch upward in a smile, but her eyes were in a narrowed fierce glare. "Yes! If the Knights… if the The Hound comes then…"

"Knights, guards, hounds, I don't care! Send 'em all, I'll kill each and every one!"

Was he arrogant or was he just stupid? Sansa had no idea.

Her wrist was trapped by his hand again and she was pulled forward, running with her feet sliding across the bloodied floors as he whipped his head left and right, trying to decipher which way they would go. There was no way that they would be going out the entrance doors, so Sansa had no idea how she could help him. If she knew of a better escape, she would've tried to leave the day her father died.

Naran led them down to the right corridor after a quick decision, but Sansa could hear guards coming from behind them. She looked over shoulders, her eyes widening in horror as she saw Sandor Clegane behind more Lannister guards. Naran might've took down these measly guards, but he could not take down The Hound no matter what he said.

Naran didn't look at all frightened of the large knight. In fact, he looked entertained—crazily intrigued with a hunger to kill. "We have to keep going or else more will come!" She tried to talk him out of fighting The Hound in hopes that he wouldn't foolishly get the both of them killed.

He glanced at her, his thick eyebrow raising. "Are you scared that I'll die, Lady Sansa?"

"Yes!" She yelled, "Now please, please keep moving!"

"Only because you said please." Sansa rolled her eyes as she felt relieved to have his hand on her wrist again and having her body pulled forward. They kept going down the hall, the distance between them and the guards was decreasing quite a bit, but when Naran caught sight of an opened door, he slipped the both of them into the room. He shut it, locked it, grinning madly when he saw the open balcony. He turned to face her, his eyes staring straight into hers as the moonlight illuminated his figure in the dark room. "How much do you trust me?"

"Does something like that even—"

He interrupted her, "How much do you trust me?" He was much more stern this time, "What am I about to do requires _a lot_ of faith in me."

Her eyes revealed her confusion as well as her uncertainty. Knowing they could not waste anymore time here, she looked back at him without wavering nor a stutter in her voice. "With my life."

"With your life?"

"With my life."

His smile made her dumbstruck since it wasn't that stupid grin he wore since she met him. He seemed happy that she was entrusting him with her life and she had no idea why. Naran then turned away from her, his back before her and knelt down. "Climb on my back." Without a word of refusal, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "Hold on tight."

Her eyes went big in horror as he ran to the balcony, but he halted just in time for the door to be kicked down from its hinges. Her head whipped around to see that it was The Hound staring them down, a snarl on his lips, and his large hands tightly gripping the handle of his sword. "With your life?" Naran asked her again in what she felt was him making sure that she fully consented to this. There was just no turning back now.

While starring in in the cruel eyes of The Hound, Sansa spoke with more conviction than she did before. "With my life."

Sinking his hook sword in the wall of the Red Keep, Sansa and Naran had slid down the castle wall with the sound of metal scrapping loudly in the night. The rush of air made her lungs rattle, feeling empty and making it hard for her to catch her breath. She thought for sure that they were going to die and she closed her eyes tightly, with her arms and legs tightening their hold on Naran. The only thing Sansa would recall before they fell to their deaths was that he smelled of Sunflowers.

Death didn't come however. Not having the sharp pain she thought would come, she finally opened her eyes to see that the both of them were on the ground. Naran had lowered so that she could be back on her feet, but the shock of it all made her body feel like water. Her legs were shaking and her body was ready to just crumple down on the floor, but Naran had pulled her close to him by wrapping his thin, muscled arm around her waist. Her head pressed against the wall of his chest, letting her ear be filled by the sound of his racing heart loud and clear in her ear.

"Didn't think we would make it, did you?"

Sansa wanted to cry because she didn't think it could happen, but it did. Naran saved her, he took her out of the hell of the Red Keep. Tears were spilling down her eyes even though she fought them, and she could hear him sigh due to their closeness. He took a step back from her so that he could hold her by her chin, forcing her head to tilt upwards as his eyes were roaming all over her face. "You're a crybaby, aren't you?" He asked her with what she thought sounded like resignation and a sigh following after it.

"I'm not!" Sansa spat fiercely although her eyes did not end their stream of tears. He didn't seem angry by her raising her voice, but he instead wiped her tears with swipes of the flat surface of his thumbs when he let go of his grip on her chin. She was startled by the gentle action even though he didn't look at all bothered by what he was doing. It almost seemed as if he had done something like this before or he just plainly didn't understand how someone could take this gesture as something romantic.

"If there's a few things I hate, it's the sight of a girl crying and liars as well."

Not knowing what to make of his words, Naran didn't give her enough time to think or speak. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all and began to sprint. He knew they couldn't waste their time there because the Lannister guards and the knights would come to look for them as well as the City Guard. Every shadow, every wall that they could shield themselves from being seen on the streets, they had took and Naran even led her down the alley's of the pleasure district just to throw off some suspicion.

They were nearing the harbors now, she could tell because the smell of the ocean air was becoming more and more strong in her nostrils. Sansa never thought she would be happy smelling sea air. Not once would she ever think something so simple would be one of the greatest things she ever smelled. Even though she was distracted by the ocean, her blue eyes couldn't stop staring at Naran. Her eyes observed him, seeing his face contorted in a look of concentration.

She kept on with her staring even when he finally stopped running, walking at a rather fast pace instead. He was walking because they had finally reached the docks with the sounds of bells from ships ringing and the seagulls still squawking. When they reached the end of the boardwalk, her eyes turned to see a cloaked figure standing by the gangplank. "You've brought Lady Sansa?" They asked, making her hold on Naran much tighter in fear of who this man might be. It also frightened her that Naran might give her to this stranger and let her set sail with him.

"Yes." Naran answered before gazing his eyes down at her, noticing her sudden tremor of fear of who was actually an ally. "She's a bit shaken up, so I'll be the one taking care of her."

Relieved, Sansa sighed as Naran walked up the gangplank and right into the ship. For the first time since her father's death, she felt like she could finally breathe, that she could finally relax, all because she was finally free now. "You know, I asked for a kiss when the ship finally sailed off." He wore that grin of his, his eyes looking ahead as they walked down the candlelit corridor of the ship.

"You did." Sansa then tapped his shoulder to tell him she was able to walk. Placing her down onto her feet, Sansa tilted her head to stare up at him. "But you also said that I didn't have to."

"I lied." Taking a few steps back, his hand trapped her when the palm of his hand rested against the wall behind her. "Do you trust everyone you meet?"

Not finding the strength to keep staring at him in the eyes, she looked down at her feet for escape. It felt like a battering ram was being forcefully slammed against her heart, and she was sure if it out of excitement or fear. "No." She told him but it felt like she was telling a lie, even the shakiness in her voice could give that away. "But something just told me that I could trust you."

Waiting for what she was afraid was going to happen, she felt his overwhelming presence leave her and the door she didn't know was behind her open. Stumbling backwards, her eyes looked up to see Naran wearing that grin of his before closing the door with a gentle thud. Her heart was still racing, her breathing labored, and she couldn't help but to wonder if he was just playing a stupid joke with her. She also couldn't figure out why she felt a little disappointed that he left without a word when all she should've felt was relief.

 **...**

"Go on, tear it to shreds." Her hand patted against the dress that she placed on the floor. Her eyes glanced back and forth between Ghost and Grey Wind. "C'mon boys, tear the dress apart. You know, like this!" She then chomp her teeth down, imitating how she wanted them to tear it, even going as far as to shake her head wildly like she imagined they would. Ghost nor Grey Wind were compliant, they seemed confused more than anything else. In fact, they just sat and looked at one another as humans would to ask one another what exactly did she want them to do.

Amara sighed, throwing her hands in her lap as she remained knelt down on the floor. She really didn't want to wear this dress but she knew she couldn't fight herself out of this one, especially now that she couldn't have an excuse. Lady Catelyn would've understood if it was ruined, wouldn't she? Part of her felt guilty for wanting to ruin such a pretty dress too for the sake of sticking with her black robes. It wasn't fitting, she knew, especially for Robb's coronation.

"Please, Ghost? Grey Wind? Rip it apart…for me?" There was no fight left in her voice since she knew they probably had no idea what she wanted them to do. The two of them just laid down on her their bellies with their tongues stuck out as they panted. They were such deferential creatures with her, which made her wish she had taken to them earlier. "I guess I have to wear it, huh?" Her eyes looked at them both of them, and they barked at her as if they were telling her yes. "And here I thought that we've become friends." Even though she was annoyed, she still scratched atop of their heads gently. It wasn't their fault.

Picking up the pink dress, she laid it on her bed and stared at it as she stood over it. In some ways, it reminded her off a silk outfit she saw her mother wear once. Her mother wore some similar dress during the coronation for the Prince of Tiqui and Amara thought she was the most beautiful person to ever walk to earth; even more beautiful than the depictions of the Maiden-Made-of-Light on the shrine walls. It was rare to think of times where her mother was healthy since the days where her life was coming to an end were much more in the forefront of her memories.

Her fingers grazed over the dress while surfing on the waves of her nostalgia and simultaneously feeling the dislike for it increasing every second she spent time looking at it. Lady Catelyn would never let her get away with not wearing it and Amara supposed that the other lords and ladies will be dressed formally for this occasion too. So, as always, she would have to admit defeat and bathe, put on the dress, and style this hair of hers before forcing a smile to Lady Catelyn in her defeat.

The sleeves were awfully long, so long that it slipped past her hands like the way girls wear their clothes in the east of Yi Ti. There were differences in style with girls and men; in the East, some wore belted, thin or heavily layered clothing. Most clothing was lighter or made of silk in the North. West of Yi Ti was a mixture of them both except they wore more blouses and jackets, while South wore a lot of tunic dresses, which she wore because she was a Southern-born girl. She missed the clothes and the culture whenever she wore dresses to these events.

The door of her apartment opened and she knew who it was immediately. Her eyes begrudgingly gazed up at Lady Catelyn, but softened from their hardened frustrations as they fully took in just how tired and broken she looked. It was expected due to the circumstance, but it was strange to see a woman with so much strength and iron-will look so defeated. "Lady Catelyn…" Her feet immediately carried her towards her, her hands reaching out for the woman's just to feel how thin and cold they were.

"I knew the dress would look well on you." She must've seen the worry in Amara's eyes and chose not to talk about what was obviously bothering her. "It used to be mine when I was a girl." That made Amara want to cringe now since she tried to make Ghost and Grey Wind tear the dress to pieces without knowing that this very dress had a past; so much sentimental value. "I wore that dress when I first met Brandon Stark. Every time I look at it, the sadness yet unbridled excitement I once felt all comes back to me."

"Would you call me strange if I told you that's how I feel right now?"

The woman chuckled, patting one of Amara's hands. "No, I wouldn't, but I can't help but to wonder what makes you so nervous now."

"I feel sad that Lord Robb will be king, but I am also excited for him." Her eyes looked down at their hands as she felt Lady Catelyn tighten her grip. "I don't know if I can be fully supportive since being a king is such a dangerous and huge responsibility. He has barely been a lord… so to be king?"

A tired sigh escaped Lady Catelyn as her shoulders dropped, "Robb being king is probably the last thing I could ever want, but there's nothing I can do nor say to change his mind nor of the minds of the other lords. I tried, Amara, I tried to talk him out of it but he's just as stubborn as his father was."

"He always says the North remembers." Jon said that too, she remembered. "And that this can't be forgotten."

"Men always feel as if they have no choice when they do. They always have a choice." Catelyn closed her eyes, battling to not let herself weaken further.

Amara knew no words that could comfort her and so she opted to change the subject entirely. "Tell me about Brandon Stark, you were to marry him you said." Wrapping an arm around Lady Catelyn's own, the two of them walked out of her apartment with Ghost and Grey Wind at their heels. The walk was leisurely to allow her time to gather herself before they were in the eyes of many people.

The woman smiled and Amara didn't know the reason for it. She just accepted it without question and listened to her tell a story a time only years ago, "He was a tall and handsome man, but he was of wolf's blood Ned told me once. They say when you have wolf's blood in the veins, the person is usually of hot-blood and had an affinity for danger. Brandon was just that, but he was of sweet-temper when we spent time together. I couldn't say I loved him, I merely enjoyed him for the small time I spent with him."

"And what of this Baelish man? He seems very fond of you, and you said you've known him long." Knowing that Brandon Stark had met a rather gruesome death, Amara didn't want to steer the conversation into one that would put Lady Catelyn in the mill of her grief. "I mean not the friendly kind of fond, but the romantic kind."

"So you've noticed?" Her laugh was breathy and gleeful, making her seem younger than what she was. "He once fought Brandon Stark in order to win me, he lost and I begged for him to be spared. He might have some feelings for me even now, Ned told me that when I last saw him, but I only see him as a brother and no more."

"Ah, I see." Part of her felt a bit sorry for Petyr Baelish; unrequited love was a very terrible feeling. And he still felt it despite the years that came and went, which was even more saddening. He was still here, in Riverrun, saying that he wanted to collect some "merchandise", which meant women he thought pretty enough to join his brothel. Whenever he wasn't doing business, he spent all his time with Lady Catelyn and trying to offer words to wisdom to Robb that always sounded strange to Amara.

Once they made their way to the doors of the Great Hall, which had been opened upon their arrival, she was amazed that the place wasn't loud with music but more so out of conversations. You could see people with cups filled with wine in their hands; calm but festive. Amara surmised that things would liven up after Robb was crowned because she couldn't for a second foresee Lord Umber remain so dignified.

Lady Catelyn and herself walked in with conversations still spilling from their lips. Once she was greeted with deep bows and smiles, Amara was happy to know that the woman could at least find some sort of distraction in her grief. No matter how upsetting Robb being crowned was to her after losing her husband, she could at least not be alone in her room or spending too much time at the bedside of her dying father. This was all too much for her shoulders to carry. Eventually, Amara had to decided to slip away and spend her time with the other healers who were seated far away due to their lowly rank. Miah was among them, already on the verge of getting drunk from the wine, and hiccuping as if there was no tomorrow.

In these events it was either be sober to see everyone in their fits of odd behavior or be a drunken mess with them. The healer still chose the first, knowing drinking wasn't something she was built for, and even pretended to be downing wine while actually drinking a cup of water. "They say Lord Hoster keeps trying to come down here for the coronation, but the man can barely stand on his own these days." said one healer.

"Of course he'd want to be here, May. It's his grandson being crowned a king after all!"

Lord Hoster Tully was truly a pitiful man nowadays. Amara suggested that he'd stay in bed since even moving him by the slightest margin would make the man nearly call the Gods to take him from how excruciating his pain was. He was kind to her and thanked her for helping Lady Arya when Lady Catelyn introduced her to him but then forgot who she was a second later. It was pitiful but she remained silent as he talked, giving him smiles and wishing to herself that she had met him sooner in hopes that his treatment could've gone better. All she could do was give him a less potent pain reliever so that he wouldn't be so drowsy and sleep so much from Milk of the Poppy.

"The Greyjoy boy, what do you think of him?" One girl asked, around the same age Amara and Miah was. Her cheeks were red from drinking and she kept giggling as if someone told her the funniest joke in all the lands. "He keeps trying to lay with me."

"The whispers are that he'd lay with anything with a cunt." Another scoffed, which made Amara snort to suppress a laugh. She had to agree with them and even slowly let her eyes gaze at the Greyjoy from their corners.

He had been teasing her as of late, knowing that Jon was going to kiss her in the Godswoods the other night. He would say subtle things in hopes to get a rise out of her… Which worked and other times it didn't. Whenever they weren't in the company of others, Amara had struck him with loose fists when he spoke so recklessly and other times she'd act as if he hadn't existed. It made their relationship strange but oddly friendly, and she didn't understand why it would change since the two never got along much of the time. Theon was smarmy, hot-headed, and liked to bully and state his nonexistent authority but other times he could be fun. Maybe that's why Robb enjoyed him.

"Amara knows 'im, she's been in Winterfell for long." Her eyes immediately looked away from Theon and back at the group of girls, who were looking at her expectantly.

"There aren't many men of this world who aren't only of interest in what's between a woman's legs. Theon is simply not a one woman man, I'm afraid." She didn't want to insult him and nor did she want to praise him. The women could take what she said or leave it.

"The only honorable men around here is Lord Edmure and King Robb." Miah sighed, having a dreamy look about her features when it came to Robb. Many of the staff girls were smitten with him and it made her glad that she had Jon to herself. Amara couldn't help but to feel a bit possessive since she knew she had to let him go someday, but she didn't want to now.

"His baseborn brother is honorable." said May, which made Amara fight not to frown. "Did you see how he helped Miriella when she dropped her bucket? Other lords would walk pass but not 'im. He helped her to her feet and carried the bucket for her."

Miah and the others nodded, muttering their approval for his gentleman behavior. "You'd think I have a chance with 'im? Since he's a bastard, he could just about be with anyone he wants."

It was strange, the feeling that was surfacing at the conversation. Her expression may have been impassive but the feelings of insecurity and what felt like envy was trying to make her green-skinned. "He might not be interested. He says he would never trouble anyone with giving them a bastard so he won't take a lover nor a wife."

The group nodded understandingly, and relieved her such a short time. Amara hadn't realized that she made the situation direly worse. "That is so sweet and kind of him, isn't it?" Another said, "The child is not of this world but he be thinking of giving them a good life by not bringing them here. So the man must starve himself for the sake of a child."

Her eyes widened as the rest of them were speaking of their approvals, only heightening their interest in him. Amara's eyes whipped at each of them, wanting to narrow to glare but she knew had to keep herself composed. It would be obvious that she hadn't like their sudden attraction and attention to Jon, and the last thing she wanted to do was out him or her feelings. "I don't mind having any of his bastards."

"Isn't this a rather strange conversation for a coronation?" Amara breathed out a slight, nervous laugh and hoped that she could change the conversation with a few words in order to not give anything away.

"What are we supposed to be talkin' about then? What kind of metal they'll use for the crown? We're _girls_ , we should talk 'bout these things. Live a little."

Those were Ros words, and the woman didn't know how much it wound her to hear them. It had been long since she last seen the redheaded girl and Amara missed her deeply. She couldn't write her a letter since they would not be staying in Riverrun for long, and so by the time she left, Ros' letter would be here without her to read it. Until they stayed in one place long enough, Amara would just have to hope that Ros was living well in the South.

Now she wished she had taken a cup of wine since she was missing Ros as well as listening to the women's plots of how to gain favor with Jon. He could be easily tricked by just about any woman since he had a lack of experience dealing with manipulative women with lips that smiled and eyes that held their selfish intentions. He was far too gentle with the opposite sex, and she knew that watching him trying to fight himself out of these women's webs was like a child just learning how to tie their bootstrings.

Speaking of him, he had just entered the Great Hall with the Karstark boys. Eddard seemed to be one Jon had got along with lightning fast while Torrhen and him were just only a bit friendly. It was Theon that Torrhen took to greatly. It was always odd watching how boys made their friends since it could either be out of some sort of act of violence or something as trivial as a commenting on a woman's looks from what she observed. Maybe Eddard and Jon had gotten along because they were both the younger brothers of heirs, which made more sense.

"There he is!" One of the healers said, "Go on, Alison. You claim to be so brave!"

Alison was a nice-looking girl with straight brown hair that reached her shoulders. Her eyes were like a doe's and a lighter brown than her hair, reminding one of a hazelnut. She was tall, most people were to Amara, but she was near Jon in height. She didn't have to really look up at him like Amara did, which she couldn't help but find herself resentful of.

The brunette straightened out her clothes, combed her fingers through her hair and fluffed it for volume, all before walking with her back straight and her chin up with a sensual sway of her hips. Amara's brow raised, eyes watching in mild excitement, as she made her way over and greeted them with words none of them could hear from this distance.

Jon was a bit surprised by her but greeted her and smiled kindly as Amara knew he would. He gave her his full attention and spoke in return, possibly answering questions that Alison asked. Just the thought of another woman speaking and smiling to him so casually made her feel even more unnerved, but Amara made no indication that she would walk over and rip him away from her like she imagined doing in her head.

"Ah, Head Physician!" Her ears perked upon her title, her body slowly turning to see Lord Umber, who gave her a broad smile.

She bowed her head, "Lord Umber." She said "How are you feeling? Did you finally rid yourself of those rotten grapes you ate?"

The other day, the man was vomiting everything his stomach held because he played a rather stupid game that men found entertaining. Eating a bowl of old grapes based on dares as if it was as an act of manliness to do what was considered wild and bold. She gave him something to clean his system, which left him locked on his chamberpots for quite a while. They didn't see him all afternoon because of it.

"You had me shitting all night!" Amara placed her hand over her mouth, trying to stop herself from laughing at such vulgarity when Lady Catelyn's eyes were on her from across the room. "But I feel new now. I happen to feel sorry for whoever cleans those pots, I think they might be with the dead from just walkin' in the room."

"My apologies, but that was the only way I could rid your body of them." She lowered her head apologetically while still stifling her laugh. Her eyes were just about to pool with tears from how hard she was trying to remain dignified.

Lord Umber laughed as boisterously as always, "You were good to me, girl." Amara's smile grew at that, she came to enjoy Lord Umber despite his rather eccentric and uncouth personality. He was entertaining, aggressive more than most but entertaining still. She knew things wouldn't be boring if he was there. Her blue eyes then scanned the room for Smalljon, who was talking to Lady Dacey. He seemed to be flirting with her due to the suggestive look in his eyes and the lack of space between them, but the Mormont heir seemed unfazed as she drank her wine. "Poor lad, isn't he? He can't even talk to girls."

"Lord Umber, that isn't kind." Amara teased him, folding her hands as she did so. "He is trying to woo her as best he can. I admire his bravery for trying though. I'm afraid Lady Dacey just cannot be moved."

Greatjon agreed, moving his head in a quick nod. "Those Mormont women are somethin' else."

"And don't you forget it!" The both of them turned to see a grinning Maege, who was downing her cup of wine like it was water. "My Dacey would chew your small boy and spit his bones out to the direwolves."

"I can believe that." He said, laughing along with Maege. Amara looked back and forth between the two of them, still mystified at the fact that these two were such fearsome warriors in the battlefield but verbally played like a bunch of teenagers. "Where is our damn king? I can smell turkey from here. I bet the direwolves will eat before we do."

Amara chuckled as the bards and musician soon began to play a song that Maege told her was called "The North is Strengthened by the King of Winter". It was played for every Northern King back in the days of the Old Ways. Everyone had gathered with the Lords and Ladies in front of the lower rank. Amara stood beside the other healers, which bothered her since she was so short and could barely see since so many tall men and women stood before her. It was to the point where she had to jump or stand at the tip of her toes just to catch a glimpse of Robb walking down the center aisle.

Her eyes shimmered with admiration at how gallant he looked; like a true king. As she noticed before, Robb developed a rather kingly walk and the face that was hard with authority, boyish in charm, and soft in kindness. His stride was long and sure, back completely straight, and his shoulders looking fairly broad because of his black cape. He wore the sleekest, grey breastplate with the finest black gambeson, unruffled and black breeches as well as shiny and detailed greaves over his equally shiny black, leather boots.

Although her eyes were so focused on him, her heart couldn't help but ache. It ached so much that she had rubbed the space below her collarbone to ease herself because she realized that he didn't look at all of the Robb she had known. He looked like someone else, another king. Another boy that shared his name. Her eyes soon followed him again, watching as he walked up the steps, and saw that it was Hoster Tully who was placing the ground on his curly, dark auburn head. The man had both his brother and his son beside him, who helped him when he sunk forward after placing the crown on a kneeling Robb.

Her heart warmed at the sight, seeing the smile Hoster had given through his pain which was probably tempered by the medicine she gave him. Her eyes then looked for Lady Catelyn, who was wiping tears with an expression Amara could only decipher as swells of pride and cries of sadness. Her eyes then looked right at Jon, who was smiling at his older brother and he too had the look of pride.

When Robb stood, everyone in the Great Hall had bent the knee to him with their hands over their hearts to show their complete fealty. Robb didn't need people coming one by one with words of loyalty or promise, and he dismissed the order of kissing his ring. "The King in the North!", "The King of Winter!" had filled the halls once they had all stood. There was something empty about those words however and Amara wasn't sure if it was because of the pain and responsibility that would come with them or the way Robb looked as if the whole North was balancing on his shoulders.

Everyone was allowed to eat now after such a long fast, but Amara didn't feel hungry at all. It was because she knew she would be troubled with a headache by not eating, she had taken a few bites of a roll of bread as she sat next to the other healers. Alison was bragging about the conversation she had with Jon, something about swords because she knew that would be something a man would be interested in. She claimed that if women gathered just a bit of knowledge about things men liked that they would be intrigued and would often seek you out because they feel like they can teach you something and have a easier time speaking with you.

It didn't sound too far-fetched but Amara doubted Jon was going to seek her out because she knew a thing or two about a weapon that's been around for centuries. Her fingers picked at the fluffy roll, wishing she had a bit of butter to spread despite how good it already was. Her mind kept having flashes of raisin bread and the smiling face of Rickon when he ate it. A piece of her heart was in Winterfell with the boys, which made it impossible to think of Austin without the will to cry.

"That's all you're eating?" Miah questioned her, chewing on a piece of roasted turkey. "You have to be hungrier than that, Amara."

With a shake of her head, she tried her best to smile. "Not really." Her appetite had never been the same since she stressed herself over Bran. Maybe because all the events that led after that stressed her even more than that did. Of course, she had to eat or else she'd never hear the end of it from Jon.

"Is somethin' the matter?" Amara shook her head again, a bit grateful that Miah always cared enough to pry. "My mother is like that though except she only eats at night."

"Oh? Does she sleep a lot during the day or she is too busy?" Trying to move the conversation from herself, Amara tried to show interest in Miah's mother.

Miah went on to explain her mother's strange appetite, completely forgetting that Amara was only sparsely eating a roll. It made her feel bad to have manipulated the conversation like this yet she found it better to have Miah talking instead of worrying.

The night reminded her of the feast for the King Robert and his family back in Winterfell. The aromas were all mixed together, food and wine, and the loud sounds of voices toppling over one another. The best thing to her was that she was closer to the music and could hear the bard singing much more clearly.

When the music began to pick up its pace so suddenly, people stood up to dance after moving tables and making space. Amara turned to look over, amused at how women and men danced here in Westeros. In Yi Ti, the girls in the South would dance but the men would do a display of fighting with theirs. Amara's eyes watched with excitement as men and women spun around in circles; men placing their hands on a woman's waist had seemed rather intimate in her opinion. Some people were close and others had space between them, which made her wonder if it depended how well you were taken with someone to not have such a large gap.

A hand was outstretched to her, covered by a black glove. Amara slowly looked up from the hand towards the owner of it. Her brow hitched upon discovering it was Jon. He didn't seem the dancing type, he didn't even seem like he cared much for music since he tended forget lyrics. He liked battle ballads than the sweet love songs she once heard Sansa sing so beautifully and proudly. So why did he want to dance with her?

"You must be pulling my leg." Amara just thought of it as a joke, but his hand remained opened.

"I'm not."

Surprised, her mouth went agape. "I… I don't know how to dance."

He must've ignored her words because the next thing she knew, Amara was on her feet and walking to the center of the Great Hall with Jon holding her hand. Her eyes quickly tried to observe the other dancers, seeing that the women placed one hand on the man's shoulder and the other was held by him. The position was right but when it came to moving her feet, she was lost.

Jon wasn't leading her by much, he seemed to be on the same par as everyone else. It hadn't mattered though since her foot kept stomping on his because she couldn't follow the foreign music as she was supposed to. After six apologies, she just stopped apologizing and told him it was his fault for making her dance.

He hissed when her foot smashed his for the seventh time now, "I figured Lady Stark would've taught you how to dance."

"…Why would she? I'm no lady, I'm only a healer." Amara didn't think anyone would want to dance with her. She was just a healer, and Jon, she thought, would be much too shy to dance with anyone or her most of all.

Jon, wincing still, was trying to act as if his foot wasn't throbbing from the repeated mashing. "I suppose you have a point." He twirled her around, and he smirked at the sudden fear on her face until he reeled her back in. "They don't dance like this in Yi Ti?"

"No." Her expression was of thought as she answered him until it shifted to a coquettish one, "We do not dance with men so closely. I don't think the men there would be able to control themselves and fathers would not like their virtuous daughters giving temptation or becoming tempted themselves." His body tensed at that, which made her laugh even though she wanted to will it in. "I promise I won't ache for you because of this dance." The quickness of his frown made her grin, "After all, you still owe me a kiss, Jon Snow."

"I do." The corner of his lips lifted at that, but Amara wasn't sure if it was because he knew she was playing with him or because she was starting to learn and sparing his feet. "Though I don't think I'd like to be pushed into a stream again."

Jon always had a way to irritate her to the point of pouting, "I was scared!" Her eyes then flicked to glare at Theon, who was busy chatting away with his arm around a barmaid and a drink in his other hand. "It's all his fault!" Amara spat vehemently, "All his and Torrhen's!"

Amara was angered that her first kiss would have to be postponed. Nobody knew just how eager she was to kiss him after wondering how it would feel. Even now when she looked at his lips, watching the flow of words leaving his mouth, she wondered how they would feel pressed to her own. It was strange, these thoughts of hers, but they made her giddy and high with anticipation. Amara had never been truly curious of things like that before. Even though she knew what people done with one another when they liked, love, or just felt attracted to each other, but it never occurred to her how it might really feel; to be captivated by someone enough to crave a physical touch.

Right now, with the way Jon was staring at her, making her feel warm and blithe, she really wanted to feel what a kiss by the person you loved really felt. But because Amara knew that such childish curiosity had a time and a place, she brought herself back to reality from that dreamy reverie to see Jon's attention was now at Theon, "He hasn't stopped talking about it since and keeps saying you're my woman."

It was hard not to grin as well as be disappointed. Although she and Jon had feelings for each other, it had to remain unseen by the eyes of others. And with Theon knowing this much, she felt troubled and curious as to why he hadn't told Robb or Lady Catelyn yet. "He's been picking on me too. I'm more than eager to empty Lord Umber's chamberpots onto his bed."

First came a snort, one that caught her off guard and made her look at him with curious eyes. It was sudden, but Jon erupted in a kind of laughter that made him unable to keep with their dancing. It hadn't mattered that so many people began to look at them, wondering just what she said or what happened to make him laugh. Amara imagined that it surprised them to see the ever-so stoic Jon Snow burst into such a joyous fit of laughter.

The way his eyes squinted, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes, and his hands holding his sides… Amara thought that his smiling face was the one of the greatest things she ever laid her eyes upon. _'I want to protect that smile of his.'_ She couldn't help but to think, feeling oddly possessive of his happy face.

When his laughter died down, and his fingers wiped away the tears that remained in the corner of his eyes, he kept his smile. "Sorry about that." He extended his hand out to her again, which she took without question.

"I didn't think something like that would make you laugh." They fell back into the rhythm of the music, both of them at the same tempo.

"It was really the look I'd imagine Theon to have seeing a mess like that on his bed." He explained, "Can you imagine? Him walking in his room with a woman just to find his bed covered in shit?"

Now it was her turn to laugh. Her eyes were smiling like her lips, glossy with tears, as she shook her head while her whole body shake with laughter. "I should do it then! Will you help me?"

"Of course."

Both of them knew they weren't going actually to do it. It would get them in trouble with Lady Catelyn, Ser Brynden, and Lord Edmure if they did, but the thought was what kept them entertained. The music had slowed into a finish and the both of them parted and stilled like the music did. "I want to ask," It felt silly to want to hear his answer since it didn't really matter much, "why did you ask me to dance? You don't really care for it."

He shrugged his shoulders, behaving as if he was just that aloof about it. "I just wanted to dance with you." He was honest, she could tell, but it had to be more than just that.

"But why?" She pried, feeling childish for wanting to hear his feelings. He never properly confessed even though he almost kissed her. "If you don't like to dance then why did you want to dance with me?"

His eyes studied her for a few minutes, and they were hard to read to her. Usually Jon became much more easier to read than he was before, but he still had his moments where he was quite vague still. Whether it was because he didn't care or because he felt it meant sincerity, he held her hand tightly and made her feel the warmth of his hand seep through the leather glove. "I thought you looked pretty." His smile made it hard for her to keep her head up, so she lowered it sheepishly. "And this was the only way I could be near you without anyone finding out how I feel about you."

It wasn't a proper confession still, but it was more than enough. It was the best way to understand his feelings for her without having the whole Great Hall silent in shock. Her eyes were unable to meet his, flustered by his words and honesty.

Amara didn't allow her stammering heart and the airy feelings in her stomach keep her like a besotted girl. She quickly changed back to her natural self. "I suppose that would be trouble if people found out." His head tilted in question, wondering who she was stating of specifically. The hand that was not held by his slowly lifted, pointing to the table of healers from over her shoulder. His eyes followed where she directed him, noticing that all the women were staring at the two of them. "You've become quite popular with the ladies here in the Trident as you did in the North. I'm sure they'll question why is it that you chose to dance with me. Alison, the one who talked to you earlier, was sure that you'd seek her out again."

Confused, he turn his attention back to her. "Why did she think that?"

"I don't know." Amara playfully shrugged her shoulders in false confusion. She wouldn't tell him of her scheme, she wouldn't out Alison over petty jealousy. "I've told you before you're quite popular with women, but you didn't listen to me."

"I'm not at all interested." Jon had said that before, she remembered.

"For shame." He seemed to have remember this conversation before. "But I can't help but to wonder, why is that you're not interested?" With a sly smile, he gave her a knowing look.

Clearing his throat, Amara caught a tinge of pink on his cheeks. Just the sight of him like this made her want to giggle since it was so easy, "Do I really have to say it?"

Sighing, Amara pretended to be hurt and pouted her lips with her eyes halfway closed. "If you don't want to then so be it."

Spinning on her heels, she peered at him from over her shoulder. "Didn't you know, Jon Snow? A girl likes to be told why she is special by the person she fancies."

He was so tempted to chase after her but when Eddard and Torrhen made their way towards him, he knew that he had to let her leave. Amara sauntered her way towards the table of healers, feeling a bit smug from how they were all staring at her. When she finally sat back down, Miah was the first out of the others to ask as to why Jon had chosen her for a dance.

 **...**

Everyone was within the Great Hall as usual when it came to meetings. Robb was sitting on the throne with his crown adorning his head now, which was the major change since they first came here. Another change was the attendance since Jon wasn't sure why Amara was brought to the Great Hall exactly. Robb and Lady Stark thought it wise and that it would be a learning lesson for her to understand the way of Westeros. Personally, Jon wanted her far from the war when it didn't concern tending to the wounded, but he couldn't say anything without admitting his feelings for her to them both. So he remained silent as he sat with the Northern lords while a prisoner was brought before Robb. Jon eyes didn't find interest in Ser Cleos Frey, he grew tired of the sight, words, and thoughts concerning the Lannisters. His eyes would rather watch Amara stand rather awkwardly at Lady Catelyn's side, eyeing the man that Theon told to kneel with the force of Ser Robin's hand.

She was wearing her black robes again, which he liked much better than the fancy clothing she wore—more like was forced to as she would say—for special events. Her black robes hid her figure and he didn't like the thought of anyone seeing the outline of her curves from a form fitting dress. Jon already had to deal with men taking interest in her, rather fiercely since she was of low rank and they thought that made her ripe for their taking. They had no idea that he'd put a dagger in their throat if they laid a finger on her or touch a single strand of her hair. Actually, they hadn't known that she would probably do it before he was even had the dagger readied in his hand.

"Rise, Ser Cleos." Robb commanded, snapping Jon out of his thoughts to pay attention to matters that needed him most. Despite Cleos Frey being half a Lannister, he didn't have their ability to hide their fear ( nor had their looks ). The man was nearly trembling as Grey Wind stood before him, sniffing him and making him even more fearful and uncomfortable. Jon thought for sure that this man was going to piss himself if Grey Wind kept up with that any longer.

He couldn't fault the man though. Grey Wind and Ghost took as many limbs as men with swords had done in the battle of the Whispering Wood, and Grey Wind found himself liking ripping the throats out of Robb's enemies the most. Ghost liked arms, rendering a man a slow death and liked to pile them as if they were a collection. He even growled if someone tried to touch it as if to show them that this would become of you if were against him or his master.

"Thank you, my lord." Ser Cleos said after fighting to stand himself up on his feet and making all that were watching laugh.

"He is no lord." Jon corrected him, "He is a King; you say Your Grace." He offered this man this small token of help because Lord Umber looked like he was about to bash the Frey/Lannister's head in for such a mistake. You do not slight the honor of a Northern Lord in the eyes of the man who first declared that Robb would be King in the North.

Ser Cleos looked frightened, this time by Greatjon than by Grey Wind. "Your Grace." Quickly did he fix what could've been a grave mistake, "Pardons."

"I brought you from your cell to carry my message to your uncle Tywin Lannister. You'll travel under a peace banner, with thirty of my best me to escort you."

Jon thought the number was too high but Robb argued that he wouldn't allow the man to die under his watch. Not only that, he was adamant about it because he didn't want Walder Frey to feel slighted if something were to happen to his grandson. All of that did make sense but Jon still thought that ten men would've been enough. "Then I should be most glad to bring His Grace's message to him."

Robb adjusted his crown while one hand rested on his sword, making him look more intimidating. "Understand, I am not giving you your freedom. Your grandfather Lord Walder pledged me his support and that of House Frey. Many of your cousins and uncles rode with us in the Whispering Wood, but you chose to fight beneath the lion banner. That makes you a Lannister, not a Frey. I want your pledge, on your honor as a knight, that after you deliver my message you'll return with the Tywin's reply, and resume your captivity.

Only a fool would deny such kindness and Ser Cleos proved that he was no fool in that regard since he quickly agreed. "I do so vow."

Edmure Tully eyes stayed glued to the man. Now that he was speaking for Riverrun by being the Lord of the Trident in place of his dying father, he was much more vocal and much more supportive. "Every man in this hall has heard you. If you do not return, the whole realm will know you forsworn."

Jon leaned forward some in his seat, eyebrow hitched as he could see how uncomfortable the captive knight was. He had no choice; he had to either deliver the message or he would die right here. "I will do as I pledged. What is the message?"

"The requirements of trade for Jaime Lannister." Robb explained before looking up at Jon. Jon gave him a nod, telling him to go as they planned. All of it was written but Robb had remembered all that he wrote, word for word. "For Tywin Lannister to regain his son, he will have to give me the Mountain and Amory Lorch in irons as well as the knights and bannermen of mine that he took captive."

Jon was the one to suggest that they take the Mountain and Amory Lorch. If they were to gain any good favor with Dorne, that would've been the best course of action. Dorne hated the Lannisters more than anyone else, but if the North could get them as allies or to remain neutral in this war, that would would be a blow to the Lannisters. And because they received a letter that Sansa was no longer in the Red Keep or King's Landing for that matter, they no longer had any reason to be cautious. It was a good thing she written to them and told them that she was rescued. By who? She didn't say so in the letter, but she seemed content and it was of her own words and Lady Stark believed it. It was just noted that she was out at sea since the raven that carried her letter smelled of seawater.

"He will also write to his daughter, the queen, that I will release her cousins, the squire Willem Lannister and your brother Tion Frey, and give them safe escort to Casterly Rock or wheresoever she desires them delivered. Futhermore, I want the remains of my father to be returned to us, so that he may rest beside his brother and sister in the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he would have wished. I also want the remains of his household guard who died in his service at King's Landing returned as well."

"Lastly, King Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claims of dominion over the North. Henceforth we are no part of their realm, but a free and independent kingdom, as of old. Our domain shall include all the Stark lands, north of the Neck, and in addition the lands watered by the River Trident and its vassal streams, bounded by the Golden Tooth to the west and the Mountains of the Moon in the east."

The last demand had the men riled up. Greatjon had yelled the words he shouted before, with even stronger conviction, and his fist raised high in the air. "The King in the North!" His voice was so loud that it bounced off the walls, and Jon smiled as the Stark name was said repeatedly.

When their cries died down, Robb continued on with what he expected of the Queen Regent, King Joffrey, and Lord Tywin. The demands seemed high since they were tearing Westeros into two parts, North and South. There was no talks of peace but just demands to be met all in order for them to receive Jaime Lannister back. They could not give them peace after what happened to their father and how pieces of him were being sent one by one. Even now that their sisters were from their Lannister claws, there was no reason to be kind and cautious.

Greatjon called Robb's title again, along with several others. Grey Wind even howled along with them while Ser Cleos looked frighteningly pale. "Lord Tywin shall hear your message, your—" Catching his mistake, he fixed it, "Your Grace."

"Good," Robb smiled as if he hadn't threatened them with demands that would spill blood if they weren't met. "Ser Robin, see that he has a good meal and clean clothing. He's to ride at first light."

"As you command, Your Grace." Ser Robin Ryger bowed his head.

"Then we are done." All the knights, the lord bannermen, and himself bent their knees as Robb turned to leave, Grey Wind at his heels. Olyvar Frey, his squire, had trouble getting to his feet and opening the door for him.

Jon made his way to follow them as Lady Stark signaled Amara to follow, she bowed her head obediently and trailed behind. Himself, Amara, and Lord Edmure had followed Robb into the gallery that led them to the end of the hall. "You did well," Lady Stark told him, "though that business with the wolf was japery and more befitting a boy than a king."

Robb seemed unbothered by his mother's disapproval of that, he only scratched his direwolf behind the ear. "Did you see the look on his face, Mother?" He asked her all the while smiling. Slipping the crown from off his head, he handed it to his squire. "Take this back to my bedchamber."

"At once, Your Grace." Olyvar bowed and scurried off with such an important piece.

Jon turned to them, "If we don't get Dorne or choose a side then we'll have to replan."

"You're the one that came up with Dorne?" Edmure seemed surprised as Amara looked at him, curious of his idea as well. "What would giving them the Mountain and Amory Lorch do for them to side with us?"

"They have grudges that still burn after all these years." He went onto explain, "If we give them who killed Princess Elia and her children then they should favor us over the Lannisters, whom they loathe. They might feel animosity towards us because we sided with King Robert in the rebellion, but this should salve the wound."

Edmure nodded as Lady Stark did the same, understanding his point. "Why not join us with the Tyrells? Couldn't we propose a marriage alliance with Margaery Tyrell in order to gain us the numbers we need? I must see an end to the Lannisters for what they did to my father's domain."

"And who will she marry?" Robb asked his uncle, "I am already promised to a Frey girl." Jon could hear the disinterest in his voice concerning that. "Although I plan to legitimize my brother, I doubt they would think it kind for me to give them someone who was a bastard not too long ago."

He took no offense to that for many reasons. Although Margaery Tyrell was said to be both beautiful and cunning, he already loved another. And she stood before him with her hands folded in front of her and her blue eyes concentrating on Robb as he spoke.

"Not only that," Robb sighed, "it is whispered that Mace Tyrell will want her to marry Lord Renly."

"So we need to decide between Lord Renly and Lord Stannis even if we gain Dorne's support or neutrality." Jon sighed, he had hoped that they could face Tywin themselves but the numbers didn't add up, especially since Tywin hired a bunch more sellswords. It just wasn't in their favor to march to Harrenhal now.

"Then whom will you choose?" Lady Stark asked her son, and briefly glanced at him as she asked this. "I can speak to Lord Renly in your place if you wish to choose him."

"I would rather you at the Twins." Her son replied with a sigh, "I want you farther from the fighting, and you could acquaint yourself with Lord Frey's daughters to help me choose my bride when the war is done."

Amara's brow rose, making Jon curious as to what she was thinking. Then he guessed it for himself, it sounded like Robb would rather his mother be gone and not in his ear. She gave good council, at least Jon thought so in spite of their sour relationship. Though it could be troubling for a king to have his mother in his ear in matters of pride.

Lady Stark was having none of it, however. "You're old enough to decide which of Lord Walder's girls you prefer without your mother's help, Robb."

"Then go with Theon." He offered, "He leaves on the morrow. He'll help the Mallisters escort that lot of captives to Seagard and then take ship for the Iron Islands. You could find a ship as well, and be back at Winterfell with a moon's turn, if the winds are kind. Bran and Rickon need you."

"Excuse me, Your Grace." For the first time, Amara interrupted. "I would rather Lady Catelyn remain here in Riverrun for the sake of her father. He is dying, she needs to be here with him."

"Rickon and Bran also need her, Amara." He insisted, "Should they be without their mother another day? I'll allow her to be with him until he is not of this world, but she must go back to Winterfell."

The healer couldn't argue with him about that, she also looked saddened about that too. He wanted to give put a comforting her hand on her shoulder since Jon knew for a fact she was remembering how hard Rickon was taking everyone's absence. Gathering her composure, she then continued on with a different subject. "Then might I also suggest you not send Theon to the Pyke?"

"And why not?" Folding his arms, he seemed genuinely curious about her disapproval of that. Lady Stark didn't seem as surprised, she looked as if she agreed. Jon was wary of the decision himself, but Robb kept saying that Theon is Balon's son.

"I agree." His mother chimed in, "I would sooner you sent someone else to Pyke, and kept Theon close to you."

His eyes looked back and forth between the both of them. "Who better to treat Balon Greyjoy then his son?"

"Jason Mallister." Lady Stark suggested, "Tytos Blackwood. Stevron Frey. Anyone…but not Theon."

He sighed, rubbing his temples while doing so. Jon knew that Robb wouldn't relent about this, even after Jon himself spoke against it. "Theon has fought bravely for us. I told you how he saved Bran from those Wildlings in the wolfswood. If Dorne won't help, I'll have need of Lord Greyjoy's longships."

"May I be honest, my king?" Amara requested, Jon looked to his brother who nodded in approval. "That is quite insensitive of you to suggest Theon to go. You claim him to be of kin to you, but you would send him back to his father?"

"What do you mean?" It was obvious Robb was becoming angry by her words by the hardened look of his eyes, the tautness of his voice, and the way he was looking as if he towered over her. Jon took a step forward, whether to warn or pull Robb from such a heated space between them. She was trekking in dangerous waters, but part of him knew just how bull-headed she was and that she wouldn't like for him to involve himself.

No matter how crossed he was, despite saying he wanted her honesty, she didn't bat an eye. Amara had been too used to Robb's disapproval and his anger by now, "When is the last time Theon spoke to Lord Balon Greyjoy?"

The hall was completely silent; not even the sound of a coin could wake everyone from the shock or realization they felt. It was obvious how such a gap in time since Theon and his father last seen and spoke to each other showed some significance to him asking for his father's for aid. As stated before, Jon had his own reasons for hesitating about sending him to the Pyke, but none of them were kind as to Amara's selfless feelings for Theon right now. "How could you tell him to go back to a man who has never cared to know how his son was fairing? How can you send him back to a man who did not even fight to get his son returned to him? He let him stay a hostage and since Lord Eddard's death, he has not sent a single raven nor come to claim him. I'm sure you see how much he cares for his son by his lack of actions and absence, Your Grace."

"Do you really think he would trust his son? Do you think he would give aid to the people who took his son in the rebellion that he lost his eldest children to and then had his remaining son taken? Do you honestly think that Theon should go there and suffer the fact that his father might want him to turn on you? He rebelled before, so why not again? And you truly want Theon to choose like this? His father or the son of the man who held him hostage that he came to care for like a brother?"

"Nobody has that kind of loyalty, Your Grace. No man can just turn against his lord father, especially Theon who takes such pride of his House. Theon will always be a Greyjoy; he says he has ironblood. He says that a lot, I've heard it a thousand times since I've met him. And so I ask, my king, how do you expect him to turn to his father to help you?"

Amara and Theon were not friends; they bickered, they glared, never smiled, and they even taunted one another when they were in the mood for it. But Amara cared for his feelings, she cared about him even when he was undeserving of it. She even outed Robb to defend him, which Jon hadn't seen coming at all.

Lady Stark looked astonished and eyed her with surprise, mouth agape as she looked at the healer who boldly looked back at Robb. It was obvious that he was fuming but he also looked guilty. Her words undoubtedly hurt him.

"I am sorry if I insulted you," She suddenly apologized, lowering her head as if she was ashamed. "It wasn't my intention, but I just can get a glimpse of how Theon would feel. If you were to ask me to go to my brother for aid, I would've told you no because if my brother told me to turn on you, I'd do it. Family… Some people have blind loyalty to them, and even if Theon wouldn't want to, I know he would do as his father wanted because there would be so much for him to gain from that."

Bowing, she gave a half smile in order to ease the air. "I'll take my leave. Goodbye, Your Grace, Lady Stark, Lord Edmure, Jon." She turned and walked down the hall as if she didn't give a speech at all. Everyone was still stunned by just how hard she fought for Theon.

His grey eyes turned to his brother, who was staring at Amara's back as she was leaving. Jon had no idea what Robb was thinking but something told him that Amara's words were resounding his head. Robb's eyes then left from her back before looking at them all, who was waiting for his reaction. "I'm going to my bedchambers." Jon knew that meant he was going to think on it, and he honestly couldn't have felt any more relieved about that.

He turned and walked away, saying nothing else as he did. Grey Wind walked at his side with a look that Jon thought was a wolf's way of smiling. Seeing no reason for him to stick around with the Tully-borns, he turned to leave in the direction that Amara had gone. There was something he wanted to talk to her about anyway.

She wasn't in the infirmary nor the staff room, so the only place he knew better to look was in the Godswoods. And that's where he saw her, sitting by a bed of flowers while looking up at the sky. His eye followed her eyes to see that red comet that he heard Greatjon tell Robb about. Jon had no idea what it meant and part of him wanted to believe Greatjon's meaning of the Old Gods having an unfurled red flag with a long tail.

"You said you don't know much about astronomy," It surprised him that she wasn't startled, almost like she knew that he was there. "But have you ever heard about a comet like this?"

Standing onto her feet, Amara turned her head to face him. "We call this The Phoenix." Her answer surprised him, "When a phoenix is born, she rises from the ashes from the former phoenix and soars into the sky to find to be with her dragon mate."

"Her? The Phoenix is a woman? And her dragon mate?" Puzzled, he lessened the distance so that he could stay next to her.

"When a man and a woman marries in Yi Ti, the woman represents the phoenix and the man represents the dragon. The woman is a phoenix because the phoenix is seen as high virtue and grace while the dragon represents strength and power. So those two together should create a happy relationship of complete balance." Still unsure, Jon tilted his head back to look at the red comet. "But when I first read of this comet, I thought it meant that a dragon had been born and spread its wings to fly for the first time. That it was finally free of its egg that it had always wanted to see the world it never imagined; going anywhere that it wished to."

"How come you don't believe it to be a phoenix?" Arya would've enjoyed the thought of the comet being a girl; a phoenix, rising above the ashes of their old life to begin anew.

"Women don't have that much freedom." Her answer came quick, "We live in a world where a woman's honor is within her cunt, but a man's honor is within the actions he performs. So how can the phoenix be a woman? What woman can truly be so free to fly as high without someone trying to capture her or shoot her down?"

The look on his face couldn't help but soften, his eyes trailing down to look at her as she stared at the Red Comet with what looked to be precariously. "The phoenix could be a sign for you, Amara."

"What?" Her eyes flicked towards him, wide in surprise but coveted confusion.

"Isn't it about time that you let go of your old life?" Turning to face her, he rested her hands on her shoulders. "How long are you going to torture yourself with the past? If you're never going back to your homeland, isn't it time you change? That you move forward?"

"Moving on is just a coward's way of denying the mistakes that led you to where you are today." Sometimes he tried to tell himself she wasn't as stubborn as he always thought she was, but then she would say something to only prove that she actually was. "Moving on means forgetting Naran and how I changed his life in the worst of ways. It means forgetting my huge part in my father's death and the death of innocent people."

"When have I said that moving on means to forget the past? You can't change something that's part of you." Trying to calm her down, he slid his hands from her shoulders and down to her arms, gathering her hands in his. "Moving on means to accept and forgive yourself. You can't keep halfway living in the past while trying to run into days of new, Amara."

Jon knew she wanted to believe him, he could see the way she was faltering and how it looked as if she was battling with the idea without the strength she could usually muster. It was always when Amara was nervous or unsure did she bite her lip and luckily it wasn't to the point where she'd tear the flesh and bled. "And who says you'll face these things alone? I'd like to think that I'm going to be here when you decidedly live for the days to come."

That was enough to make her smile and so he twined his hands with hers, "And who says I want you there?" Jocose as usual, Jon didn't want her any other way. Her sarcasm although annoying at times, confusing during others, was still a thing about her that he came to find endearing.

"It looks like you don't have a say in the matter anymore." He replied impishly, "Although I've seen the way you laugh so freely with Greatjon, I could always decide to have him do it in my place"

Now that he was playing her own game, it was his turn to laugh at how petrified she was. Getting over her shock, she tried to yank her hands away from his, but he kept his grip iron-tight. With a sure step as well as leaning forward so that he was close enough, he pressed his lips against her forehead. Her skin felt warm in the airy garden of the Godswood, and even though her lips were his first choice, he didn't want a repeat of the last time.

"That's not the kiss you owe me, Jon." The frustration in her voice made him snort, "I don't find this funny, you know. How long do I have to wait?"

"Until I'm sure I won't be soaked to the bone." Resting his chin atop of her head, he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to tell her that once Ser Cleos sent his message and after meeting Tywin Lannister himself for trade that he would have to sail to Dorne. The time spent apart would be great but when he would return, he promised himself that he would court her properly.

 **...**

The number of days at sea had been few but Sansa was growing jaded of the rocky waters of the ship. Naran allowed her to move freely and getting acquainted with his crew, who were a bunch of rowdy and strange men that had no courteous way about them. They seemed more like pirates from stories she heard than of men that worked under a rich man, which was all she could see Naran to be. He had a vast amount of fortune, she saw all the gold down below the ship. How could a boy be so young and have that much? He had to be of importance but he would laugh whenever she asked. _"I'm just a simple boy with greedy and expensive interests."_ That's all he would tell her before walking away, never teasing her like the day when they first met. He had been distant, and she had been a little grateful for it.

Climbing up the stairs to go to the deck, Sansa had caught sight of Naran and another man playing a game she had never seen before. It was obviously foreign but whatever it was, it must've required concentration because Naran was still and constantly rubbed at his bare chin with his left hand as his right had this long, golden smoking pipe. A trail of smoke would spiral out of it and she was wary of being close because she was sure the smell would make her wrinkle her nose.

"Sansa!" One of the crew men shouted her name, startling her but she gave him a smile out of politeness. The men were always loud, she should get used to that while she was still with them.

"Hello Batbayar." His name always rolled off her tongue strangely, and he always laughed when she tried to pronounce it. He called her voice "Sida", which she was told meant cute in Common Tongue. Since that day, she grew to like him even though he had eyes of the color of steel, stood more than 7 ft, and was built of all muscle.

"Come to look at ocean?" His Common Tongue wasn't great, she could understand most of what he said though. "You like it, huh?"

When there were was nothing to do and staying in her cabin felt unbearable, she would come to the deck and stare out at the sea. Sansa found it comforting since there had been no sight of storms, so the blue waters were kind and lovely to espy. "Yes." She answered him, nodding her head to strengthen her answer. "I do. I very much like the ocean."

"Ocean pretty, ocean dangerous too!" Batbayar told her with a laugh and although she had already known that, she wondered why he he felt the need to warn her of that.

Peering over her shoulder to Naran, his eyes were still concentrated on his game. With a frown, she turned away and walked towards the railing of the ship to stare into the ocean blue. Lying her arms down on the flat surface, she laid her head onto its side to rest on them. She wondered if her mother and brother received her letter, which Naran forced her to be as vague as to how she escaped. All she could really say was that a friend helped her to which she persistently asked why she had to keep his name a secret.

As she come to know of him, he only told her half an answer and then kept it as that. He only told her what he wanted her to know and kept what he didn't want her to know in his head. _"I have important contacts that helped for your release. How else would've I have been able to get inside the Red Keep? I'm not that stupid nor am I that cunning."_

So who helped him? The more she thought it about it, the more her her would ache for trying to scramble for such an answer that was completely unknown to her.

"Yui'ya ruddal wiaida ruun ed dhair rena." The language they spoke in was so strange to her ears. It almost sounded like a song when she thought to describe it, it was almost rhythmic as if they were singing a sweet lyric. Sometimes it depended on who was talking, some people were rougher than the airy way she liked. Naran said it as if he was singing with highs and lows, tenor and bass.

He wasn't speaking now though, he was too busy sipping from his golden pipe with his golden eyes never leaving the board of pieces with foreign writing on it. Sansa wanted to ask what language he spoke in, halfway tempted to learn since she was fond of the sound of it and thought it might best if she understood some, but asking Naran of anything after he saved her life made her feel more of a burden. Even though he didn't save her because of his own volition, he still risked his life for her just to get his job done.

Her body stiffened when she saw his eyes slowly leave the board and gaze up at her. He was staring at her intently, and she hated this way the color of his eyes just made his eyes gleam with power. It all ended when he gave her that lopsided grin of his, taking away any trace of commanding way about him. That was the one thing that made him seem boyish; showing the truth that he was not yet a man grown.

When he told her he was only five and ten, Sansa thought he was lying until the man that sat across from him and few others confirmed it. He was that young but taller than her older brothers and even her father. He also had so many men under his command for him to be just a boy, and learned that there were more waiting for him in Volantis. How could a boy have this much power in his hands and still act the way he does?

"Am I pretty, Lady Sansa?"

"What?" He forced her out of her thoughts, making her eyes lose their cloudy haze.

"Am I pretty?" He repeated, "You're always staring at me."

Her lips curled down into a frown as he began to laugh. He found annoyance her amusing, and she loathed it. "Your joke was not funny."

"Why are you so hostile with me? Aren't we friends?"

Curious, she blinked twice in her astonishment. "Friends? You and I barely know one another."

"Ah, that's true." His fingers, bony and calloused, had picked up a round piece and moved it to another square. "I suppose one day we could be."

* * *

 **A/N** : Since I'm making Yi Ti one big melting pot of Asian cultures, I made Amara describe each part of Yi Ti like a certain culture when describing the clothing style. The North is China, the West is Korea, the East is Japan, and the South is Mongolia. There are some things I'm gonna merge but some things I won't so that I can make Yi Ti a bit unique like how Westeros has different customs in certain places.

So much will be going on next chapter: Tywin, Dorne, and maybe the appearance of someone else.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:** Woo! A lot happens in this chapter.

 **Chibichibi98** : Hopefully since is canon that things never seem to go right for them. Should I be just as cruel? I need to be cruel at one point.

 **AddaBlack94** : l want Renly to die canonically, so I think I'm going to make them married at this point. The only thing I can stop is her marrying Joffrey and then later Tommen at this rate, but that is if I feel I can do Margaery justice. I'm a bit hesitant that I won't. That is true! I didn't realize that... I always had a love/hate for Renly, but I'm not sure if the reason why I loved him in the first place was because he was cowardly and seemed so happy along with his relationship with Loras. Now that I think about how he was going to kill a kid without second thought like that, it kinda changes my perception.

 **Minstorai** : They are literally my favorite. I'm inwardly compensating for what could've been the friendship between Tormund and Amara.

 **Lovinurbuks** : Thank you! Naran and Amara meeting is going to be something.

* * *

A white raven had flown in from the citadel to deliver a message of what Amara already knew its contents; it came to tell of Autumn's arrival. The winds were strong, wailing of the bitterness of Winter that was nearing, but all the new season served to remind her was that her nameday was just two months away from her now. This sudden anxiety about it made her feel restless since the thought of finally turning eight and ten brought many mixed emotions. She wanted to think that a significant change would come. What would the change be? She didn't exactly know, but she felt every year she aged, she learned or noticed something quite different about herself. What will she learn this year? She hoped that it was the ability to keep her mouth shut and not repeat the same mistakes she knew better to avoid.

Giving unasked advice should be on the top of the list of changes. Ever since she practically scolded Robb about sending Theon to the Pyke, he had not utter not a single word to her since. Amara was used to the silent treatment from him; he would be polite enough to acknowledge her but a conversation was not happening. Good at pretending she didn't care about it to everyone else, she could say that it bothered her since they were just getting themselves back on track from their previous disagreements. Now they had taken ten steps back after taking only a couple steps forward. At least he had taken to her advice and sent someone else, but she grew curious as to how Theon felt about that. She didn't have a single clue.

Of the remaining days of her status of seventeen, she was spending it in Riverrun. Jon and Robb, and plenty of other men would be leaving to see the fearsome Tywin Lannister before sailing off to Dorne. It meant that Jon couldn't spend her nameday with her as she would've liked. It would also probably be a month or even more before he returned and that also made her sour at heart. She wasn't even sure if he would remember such an insignificant day compared to all his time being spent on this bloody, strenuous war. It was presumptuous to think that she could take even more of his time because of her greedy desires to be enraptured by his company for as long as she possibly could.

Burying her face deep into her pillow, she thought about not moving at all.

"Were you not going to tell me goodbye?"

She knew it was him and his words left her feeling strangely empty. Amara wanted to be angry that he was leaving and at the same time feared for him since he would be seeing Lord Tywin. All the men kept talking about how tense they were about it. Others like Lord Umber wanted to do a surprise attack and lop the man's head clean off. Jon was the only calm one, speaking and reminding them of how paramount it was that this trade went well, but she could see it. She could see the fear in him lodged deep into his dark eyes that he tried to camouflage with his calm. Amara knew him well enough to know when he was fearful of something.

"No." Childish it was, but it was honest. "Because I don't want to say it." Eyeing him from the corners, she watched as he plodded himself over to her and sat at the edge of her bed. Amara stared at him before turning her back on him. "I don't want to tell you goodbye."

He gave out a soft, silly laugh. "You act as if you'll never see me again." Like that wasn't a possibility. Forcing herself to sit upright, her head whipped to look at him with cold yet sad eyes. It dawned on him that she indeed feared that. "You're overreacting."

"Overreacting?!" Her eyes narrowed at that, giving his arm a pinch out of retaliation. He hissed, rubbing the area of his arm where she pinched.

"You pinched me!" He wasn't seriously hurt, she could tell he was only pulling her leg with dramatics. She eyed him dully as he chuckled, continuously rubbing the area she supposedly "hurt" him.

Her arms crossed over her chest, still unable to find the time to laugh or smile about anything. "I most certainly did! You must be dreaming if you think I'm overreacting." He rose upright, his head tilted as he waited for her explanation. Her shoulders drooped as she stared off into nothing, "Tywin Lannister is a monster." She said before heaving a sigh, "I heard Theon and some of the men talking about the Rains of Castamere and I…"

"Why would they talk about something like that?" He was asking himself that than he was asking her. His head shook, a sigh leaving him. He still didn't seemed bothered by all of this; bothered by meeting Tywin Lannister. He raised a hand, placing it on the side of her head in order to give her some comfort. Her hands desperately wanted to clasp his wrist to keep his hand there, but she was too frustrated and scared to give in to his touch. "Amara, I know what I'm doing." That hardly reassured her. "You think Lord Tywin will put himself at such risks when his son's life is in our hands?"

He didn't understand a parent's passion to protect and save their children. He was still a boy himself in some ways; a boy fighting in a man's war in a man's place. Her eyes closed halfway, knowing that Jon wouldn't know a parent's will until he had a child himself. He would know of it someday, she was sure, but for now he was clueless. "You must never doubt a parent when it comes their child, young or old. He will be ruthless to keep his son breathing and at his side."

Meeting those moonless greys that were fixated on hers, she could tell that he was giving what she said some thought. Part of this whole war, after all, was happening because of a mother's love for her son on both counts; Lady Catelyn and Queen Cersei. "I won't." Putting him on alert didn't mean his decisions would be right, but they would be wiser.

At least he listened to her and would take what she said into consideration, that was more than enough for her. His hand left her head and she almost felt the need to catch it, but it wasn't sufficient. Jon stood and was about to walk to the door until she climbed off the bed to run ahead of him and stand in front of the door. She raised her arms in efforts to block it, "What are you doing?"

"What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?" He questioned, arms folded. "You won't tell me goodbye and now you won't let me leave. You must make up your mind."

It was rude of her, she knew it. He was leaving in two hours but she was taking his time that he could be using to making sure preparations were as they should be. Someone else could do it, she kept trying to tell herself to justify what she was doing. "I-I'm not doing anything." It was strange, to stutter, that is. Why did she seem so nervous? Why was she lying? Coming to terms with her feelings and the actions she done because of them never made any sense. It was frustrating to meet new feelings she felt were once dormant.

His smile didn't falter, he watched her with his head in a curious tilt. He was probably trying to understand her and failing at it because if she couldn't understand herself, so how could he? Jon had then unfolded his arms and held them open. Biting down on her lip, she looked to his outstretched arms and then back up at him with such a shaky resolve. He curled and uncurled his fingers, motioning for her to come close.

Out of spite, Amara didn't want to let him know that she was enjoying this. She had to be defiant in someway to save face, and he seemed to have known that. With one small step, she gave him a snarl of her lips before running forward and colliding into him, melting into his embrace once his arms wrapped themselves around her in a tight grip when he got his footing straight. For him to have a Winter-like name, he was as warm as the Springs she only read stories about. Amara could feel herself blooming into his hugs, burying her face in the warm wall of his chest just to hear his soft breathing pouring into her ears along with the steady and strong beating of his heart.

Jon's hand slid down the back of her head in smooth, steady and repeated strokes. Occasionally his fingers would tease through her hair, combing until he reached the ends just to repeat the same process. From him combing her hair to the warmth of his hug, she was starting to feel rather drowsy. She wasn't fully rested to begin with and now to be enclosed in such a safe and comforting place, it made it hard to keep her eyes open.

"I'm going to miss you." Hopefully his gambeson mumbled such a silly admittance. Her face was flushed red, unsure of why she said that aloud. It should've been left a thought, but these sparks of bravery left quickly as they came.

Her eyes softened as she heard the base of his laughter, born from his center and rising to leave his lips. "I'll miss you too." Amara writhed bashfully, unsure of how to deal with this act of romance. She wasn't sure she would ever grow use to this togetherness. "I'll send ravens to tell you how things go."

That was the most reassuring thing he had told her.

 **...**

In one swift movement, Jon mounted on his fire red horse named Red Hare, which had always been Jon's favorite when he was young. The reason he named him after a rabbit was because the horse was as quick as one. Though he was feisty in personality—which made his name quite contradictory—Jon still thought the name suited him. The horse itself seemed to be reluctant about leaving Riverrun and Jon thought it to be for the most obvious reasons. The horses never had such beautiful plains to run out to; clean, warm streams and the gardens of flowers all over the place. It was also considerably warmer here than it was in Winterfell too, even with the change of season. "Easy now." Jon tried to hush him, letting his gloved hand rubbed the back of the horse's neck to simmer his temper, which worked for what Jon knew would be for a short while. Red Hare wouldn't rest until they began to move.

"Ready, Snow?" He turned to Robb, giving him a nod.

"As ready as I'll ever be, Stark." He replied with a smile.

Eddard Karstark had rode his horse up join them, looking tired as well as anxious. He didn't look as if he slept at all last night, "I just want to get this over with." He said with a yawn afterwards, "Meeting Lord Tywin has never been a wish of mine or any man with a good amount of sense."

"Calm yourself, Edd." Jon nicknamed him since calling him Eddard always made him feel strange, making him miss his father whenever he spoke it. Edd wasn't the best substitute either but it was better than Eddard and Ned. "We've gave Lord Tywin reason to see us as men and not boys. You can't show him your fear, not now or ever."

"We may be green when it comes to war," Robb added, always knowing what to say to keep the morale high, "but we've put his tail between his legs a couple of times, haven't we?"

That was enough to lift Eddard's spirits some, a sense of pride coming to him and he looked as if he got a night's sleep with that look in his eye alone. "Right." He nodded, "I suppose he isn't so fear-worthy as I'm making him out to be."

"Nobody said you shouldn't still fear him." Although he was teasing, he didn't want Eddard to take Tywin easy. Tywin Lannister was an unpredictable man who could manipulate war just by lifting his fingers and throwing some gold. He was not one to underestimate, even when they had the upperhand.

The people of Riverrun had gathered to tell them goodbye when they left, Lady Catelyn and Lord Edmure stood in front with everyone else behind them rightfully so. Robb and his mother shared a look to which she had given him a nod, which must've been a silent goodbye. Jon's eyes then caught sight of Amara, who stood with the healing staff with her hands laced in front of her. Her head was down and her eyes staring at the ground as if she was unable to lift them.

The sight of her like that made him frown, but he understood. He forced his eyes to look away to catch sight of Robb briefly looking at her himself with face a mixture of different things that Jon couldn't read. The two of them still haven't spoken and it was obvious that neither of them were happy about it. Jon knew better to get involved though, it never worked when he did. They might just end up arguing again at this rate.

Turning Red Hare, they all began their march to the Saltpans. They would be meeting Lord Tywin at an inn while their ship was being prepared to sail off. "Is the concoction ready?" Robb asked. It took some convincing on Jon's part, but Amara made a powder native to her homeland to make the The Mountain sleep during their sail to Dorne. Everyone knows that iron chains wouldn't keep that beast of a man down and from trying escape. It would keep him asleep for days and they could sail easy without any bloodshed or people being thrown overboard.

"Yes, Your Grace." Robb gave the man a firm nod and then led them in a straight column, keeping a steady trollop since it would be at least five days until they reached the Saltpans. It would've taken less but out of fear that Lord Tywin might thought it necessary to sneak attack them, they would be taking a longer route mapped by Ser Brynden to make their route hard to follow.

His eyes turned turned to the walking iron-clasped Jaime, who looked nothing of the golden knight that he was before. He was dirty with matted hair that didn't look blonde like it once did; it was born possibly from dirt and his own shit. His beard was rough and covered in the same mess as his hair, and he wore rags with holes and stains in them. It was impossible to think that someone like this was once the Kingslayer, who was one of the best swordsmen and taught by the best of them and killed the Mad King. Jon almost felt pity for him, and then he realized that people like him didn't deserve it especially when he pushed Bran from that tower.

It also made him wonder if the rumor was true. If he was really sleeping with his queen twin and that was what Bran saw and why he was pushed. It made sense, even though everyone thought it mere gossip since Stannis was trying to claim the throne, but when Jon thought about it some more, that is something someone would kill to keep secret. And if King Joffrey and his siblings were born out of that incest, the truth of that would kill them and that added another point as to why Jaime tried to kill him. It could also be the reason why his father was killed because how else could their father be a traitor? Did he truly know?

"What's got you thinkin' like that, Snow?" Theon's voice grappled him out of his thoughts, "Thinkin' about a woman?"

Inwardly wanted to cringe, he could feel several eyes on him now. "A woman?" Greatjon interests now piqued, "I'm thinkin' about several m'self. The sallies in the Riverlands are alright in the face and comely in body. The healer staff are the prettiest women I've seen in most places. You think biddies like that wouldn't be so, but the ones in the Riverlands looks are wasted."

"I don't think they are interested in you as you are in them, Lord Umber. Most of them swoon at the sight of Robb's feet." Theon joked before shifting his eyes back to Jon, "Although I've seen a few of them take interest in Snow o'er here."

"Becoming popular with the women nowadays, Jon? Maybe it's cause you took down ole' Kingslayer here." At Torrhen's jest, Jon wondered if him and Theon were playing around to get him to confess what they saw in the Godswoods between Amara and himself. He hadn't even told Robb that he planned to court her or of his own feelings, so why would he tell the army before his blood? He didn't even know how Robb would feel about it no less. What if he disapproved?

Trying to think conjure up a response, he merely shrugged his shoulders. "They've been kind to me. It is nothing unusual." Jon couldn't afford to behave strangely and give Robb room to question or Theon the satisfaction of seeing him stumble. That was what the Greyjoy wanted.

"Kind?" Greatjon's face scrunched up in confusion, "I don't know if you're bein' stupid and not seein' why they'd be so kind or you're just that soft when it come to women."

"He's blood of the Starks." said Ser Brynden, "They believe in honor and with the boy becoming a Stark himself soon, he might want to keep himself for his wife. His Lord father did before he fucked a whore afterwards and brought home a bastard babe."

He must've felt slighted by his father doing that to his niece. All the Tullys must've. Although Lord Edmure was kinder, he was Lady Stark's brother after all. He too must've felt the same whenever he looked at him but chose not to say anything. After all, Jon was the child that his lord father disrespected his vows and lady wife with. Jon's hands gripped the reins, trying to hold his anger in as well as the will to speak back. Robb turned, his eyes gelid and sharp as they glared at his great-uncle since he took the words as insult to heart.

"How many married men took a woman for comfort in wartime? My brother did no wrong, my father was at war with a wife that wasn't meant for him but for his brother. He didn't love my mother then, barely knew her, but he loved her later and died loving her. Don't put your blame on Jon for that. Don't you blame my father for that either. My father was a man and _still_ more honorable than most."

The conversation ended with Robb's last words seeing as Ser Brynden tightened his jaw and made his eyes look away into the Riverlands. He was happy that Robb stood up for him when he felt he would be wrong to defend himself against a knight and family of the Tully's.

 **...**

The ship's anchor had fallen deep in the blue waters, sinking into what Sansa never knew lied under the surface of the ocean. Her eyes looked down as she waited for Naran and watched the men carry a variety of things down the gangplank and into what she realized was another ship. Her eyes widened at that, not sure what to think. Were they going to board that ship? Why else would such abundance of gold be away from its owner? Her body quaked in fear when she felt a hand on her shoulder, making her spin around to face the tall, golden-eyed boy. Not wanting to lose her composure, she swallowed her fear and looked up at him with newborn courage. "Why are they taking your treasures to another ship?"

"Reasons." Her brows knitted together at the vague answer, and her eyes frosting like ice at the grin she grew to hate. "Does it matter, my lady? It has nothing to do with you."

It annoyed her how right he was. What he did with his riches had nothing to do with her and she knew that she should just be grateful that he saved her. Though it was hard to be grateful when she knew nothing of him, but that was her fault. She trusted him, blindly, and now had to deal with whatever he done with a grain of salt.

"This isn't Volantis, we're in Myr."

"Smart, aren't you?" Naran crossed his arms, leaning against the railing on the ship. Sansa wasn't sure why he had lied to her or what purpose did this all serve. Was he afraid that she would tell someone where she was going? Did he lie to her for some other purpose? Was he going to sell her as a slave? She might be even made captive for some exiled lord in order to be returned. If not for gold then for what? "But you are right, we're in Myr. Myr was the true destination; everyone goes to Volantis once exiled. Never Myr. They're too poor to come here, but we're not poor."

"Why are _we_ here?" Her eyes were watering from her anger and from what she was afraid would become of her. What was he going to do to her? "You said you were here to help me under my father's orders. That was a lie, wasn't it? You used that to lure me!"

"I didn't lie about that, Lady Sansa." Naran seemed offended by that, but how could he? He lied about where they were going, so what else could he be lying about? The nerve he had to be struck by her words. Sansa wanted to wring his neck until he gave he answers. "Are you some measly kitten tempted by the sight of a fish? Says a lot about _you_ than it does about _me_ , doesn't it?"

Her hand raised to slap him, she was so close until his hand clasped her wrist like it was made of pure iron. Her lips trembled as she felt waves of foolishness wash over her. "I'm not going to harm you, and I would like it best if you gave me that same hospitality." The strength she was trying to build in her hand for the slap lessened until there was none and her arm went slack. He let her wrist go and her arm fell lifelessly to her side. Sansa just stood there, trying her best to hold back her tears and empty her mind of all the horrors that she thought might happen.

"Would you like a tour of the city before we reach our destination?" He spoke like she was never aiming to slap him and as if he wasn't bothered by the gelid look she gave him with her eyes, which was more like melting ice than ice itself due to her tears. His own tried to melt them, she thought, but Sansa wouldn't let it happen. He would not warm or make her melt, she could be as cold as the North; be like the Winter she didn't remember. Naran extended his arm outwardly for her to take, but Sansa ignored him. Instead she straightened this black dress she wore for days and combed her fingers through her hair. What she truly wanted was a proper bath to wash away the ship and seawater smell on her skin and some new clothes. They walked down side by side down the gangplank without a word being said.

Myr was a beautiful city; it was more beautiful than the pictures and words used to describe it, and the sight of its culture seemed to catch her eyes due to how different life here than it was across the sea. The people here had many different things about them: the different shades of their skin, features of their face, and hair and their style. Even the material of clothes seemed otherworldly to her. What caught her negatively out of all the beauty of Myr was the sight of slaves, which caused her to swallow thickly and curl her fingers. The tattoos they wore for what occupation they were saddened her and made her wonder if she would become of them if that was what Naran wished.

"You never told me why we are here." She said as they walked alongside each other in the busy streets. Only a few of the men that boarded the ship with him were there, serving as bodyguards from what she could tell since they all hard a weapon on their person. One man in particular, tall and thin, with high-cheekbones and bronze skin had stood closely to Naran. His hair was long, black as night, and into a single braid that ended at his waist. He was the one that spoke with Naran the most and he often smiled at her but never spoke. Sansa couldn't help but assume that it was because he could not speak Common Tongue. He was named Tömör since that was what Naran called him often.

"It is not for me to tell." Vague again. She frowned at this state of mystery that he was cloaking himself with, but she had said nothing else. There was no use when he spoke in circles, teasing her, and acting as if she didn't have a right to know why she was here. All of this would just provoke an argument, and Sansa didn't want the headache she'd get if they did lock horns. So the best thing she thought to do was keep her feelings to herself. Even going far as to ignore him as he spoke in his native tongue to Tömör, who bowed and walked away and went to the nearest carriage.

Once Tömör returned, the coachman drove the carriage before them and opened the door. Sansa entered quickly, sliding in and sitting down by the window with every intention of looking out of it to keep her eyes away from him. Naran shook his head, a smile curling on his lips, and elegantly made his way inside just to sit on the opposite seat of her. None of his men entered with them, they had horses to ride on behind them that seemed to be purchased beforehand, possibly while they were on the ship.

The coachmen closed the door and seated himself in front to drive the horses, speeding off when he got comfortable in his seat and making Sansa's body somewhat jolt forward from the sudden force. The city of Myr proved more interesting to Naran too, who was staring out the window from the carriage door. Out of boredom, her eyes shifted to her left to quietly observe him, musing how his bony fingers kept curling a lock of his hair. It was something she noticed he done quite often. The hair would never curl or become wavy, his hair was straight from root to end, even when wet.

Letting her anger towards him die down, she parted her lips to speak. "Why do you do that?" Whether it was because she was bored or curious, she couldn't help but to ask.

"Do what?" He looked at her from the corner of his eyes, before looking at his hand in his hair. "You mean play with my hair?"

"Yes." She answered, eyes telling him "what else would it be?", but she tried to fix her face to keep the peace. "Why do you do that?"

"It's just a stupid habit." His shoulders moved in a shrug until his face softened, a smile spreading across his lips as he seemed to think of something fond to him. "My sister used to comb through my hair when I was young. It used to calm me but she mainly done it to put me to sleep. She said I had too much energy, that's why I would always get into trouble."

He did look like the wild child. In some ways, he reminded her greatly of Arya, but he had a bit more sophistication about him at times. Naran seemed to know when to differentiate fun and dealings unlike her sister. Arya probably would've liked him though, she would've enjoyed him than she enjoyed her own lady sister, no doubt. "You seem like the type." Sansa couldn't help but smile, "To be troublesome, that is."

A sound she gathered to be a laugh left his lips, his eyes crinkling in high spirits. Her body froze at the sight of that, right then he had a youthful innocence about him when he did that. He looked like a child instead of the mischievous teen she seen him be. "I'm sorry that you're stuck with me for a time; me, the troublesome person."

"You spoke of your sister, where is she?" Her hands laced themselves on her lap, "Is she here in Myr?"

The smile he wore had faded inch by inch until there was no expression left on his face. She observed such a change of air with worry as he turned his head to look back out the window, "I don't know. It doesn't really matter where she is really, I don't intend to look for her."

"But why?" Sansa couldn't help but to pry, "She is your sister. Shouldn't you care—"

"Sister or not, I don't care." The contempt in his voice made her want to reel back like it burned. "I'm not some stupid dog. If someone doesn't want you, you don't go whining and crawling back to them or do something stupid as to care about them."

 **...**

Who knew someone could be so fearsome by their eyes alone. Even though he held fear for the Lannister Lord, Jon remained in his state of calm just as boldly as his brother did. Part of him felt small, like a child, with his skin wanted to prick with goose-pimples and the hair on the back of his neck wanting to stand. His heart may have been beating in an abnormal pace, but when you looked at him, you wouldn't have thought he was feeling any of that. His brother sat as kingly as ever, crown on his head and not a trace of fear in his eyes. Robb looked at Tywin Lannister as if he were just another man and not someone that killed hundreds of men, destroyed Houses, and had ballads that made a boy respect and fear him all the same. He may have been a lion, but they were wolves and wolves did not fear lions.

Tywin's hands were folded, elbows on the small and round table before him. There was a stern, overpowering glint in his green eyes that had stipples of a bright gold. His men were behind him, not all of them, but the most fearsome and savages of sellswords along with Kevan Lannister. All of them looked like they have been bathed in centuries of blood, especially the Lannister brothers who raised their family from the laughing stock their father made the House be. "You have my son." His voice may have been leveled or to be considered to sound dull, but there was a hint of rage between each word. "Where is he?"

Robb didn't let his voice bother him, he spoke as calmly as ever. "On my ship." His eyes briefly gazed down at his cup of red wine, "Where is The Mountain and Amory Lorch?"

"Outside." Tywin answered swiftly, "Pray tell, _King_ in the North," There was something condescending how he said the title, "why would you want them? Why are they worth more than my son to you?"

It was a reasonable question, but Jon rose a brow as he did. Did Lord Tywin seriously think they would give him the reason? He probably didn't in-actuality but he bothered to ask any less. Maybe he thought he could read between the lines and figure it out himself. Jon had no idea how Tywin played these mind games and he hoped that Robb went about this wisely.

"Does it matter?" Composed, Robb sat up straight, moving the cup of wine in his hands to let the drink move and splashing against the rim in circles. "You have your reasons and I have mine, Lord Tywin."

Lord Umber smirked at that, wanting to laugh at the sudden glimpse of a frown Tywin displayed. Green eyes then ventured up to look at Jon, who tried not to visibly freeze when his eyes met them. He dared to look back at Tywin, who squinted, even as he spoke. "And you are the one who took my son down in the Whispering Woods?"

"Yes, my lord." He was almost thankful that he did not stutter or ramble. He kept it simple. "The Kingslayer did not go down easy."

The Lannister hmph'd at that, almost as if he didn't believe him. "If that were true then he wouldn't have lost. I believe my son has gone soft. He never belonged in the Kingsguard, and look what good it did him." Glancing down to look absently at the table, he then brought his eyes up back to Jon with much more fury embedded in them than the state of calm they were before. If Jon were ice before, he would've been water from that heated glare. "This son of mine ended up bested by a boy, a bastard boy at that."

Jon's lips dipped into a deep frown. "That bastard boy is the reason why your son was knees deep in mud, you best remember that." Robb defended him fiercely, Grey Wind growling in tune with Robb's rising temper. "I would mind your tongue if I were you. Have you forgotten? This is the trade for your _son_ after all. I could give him back in pieces like your daughter has done to my father, would you prefer that?" Grey Wind barked, fangs bared but that did not scare Tywin Lannister. Jon was starting to think that nothing really could. Not even the Stranger himself.

His eyes glanced at the direwolf with no amusement before flicking his eyes back to Robb, "Have I struck a nerve, _Your Grace_? Tell me, Young Wolf, do you always get so easy to rile? You should make this war easy if that is true." His brow rose while both of Robb's bowed. The both of them were in a heated stare off, like animals in the wild before a gruesome fight. Jon placed his hand on Robb's shoulder to shake him out of feeding what Tywin wanted. And it seemed Robb knew because he became less tense and Jon felt good enough about it to pull his hand away.

"I was foolish, forgive me." A saccharine smile appeared on the Wolf King's face, "I'll be mature and tell you why I want your most _trusted_ companions." Taking the last bit of wine in a few gulps, Robb placed the cup down onto the table and wiping his wine-stained lips. "I'm going to give them to the Riverlords, of course. My men and I grow ill of seeing the fires and hearing the tolls of deaths in their beloved lands about their Smallfolk, so why not end the suffering and I, as their King, should justly let them get the vengeance they deserve."

"You tried to use Vargo Hoat to lure me into giving you back your son, but I'm sorry I was not as small-minded as you think me to be, Lord Lannister. You've only made me decide for a much more bigger prize, but I do intend to deal with Vargo Hoat." He nodded, his smile never leaving, "In fact, I think I might've already did."

Tywin's eyes widened by a fraction for a split second as Robb outstretched one of his arms as he turned to his men, "Lord Umber, would you do me the honor of bringing out Vargo Hoat? He was employed by Lord Twyin, and he should see what has become of him for it is only right."

The men separated and down the line, Greatjon Umber came sauntering forward, carrying the head of that rotten man. Tywin watched as Greatjon placed the head directly in front of him on the table, bloodying it and letting it sink straight through the wooden furniture. The head smelled terrible since it was in a sack for two days, "We met him while we were traveling here, if you were curious. Lady Dacey Mormont brought an end to him with her sword when she caught him raping like the vulgar monster he is."

Jon took in the look the Lannister Lord gave; pure rage and disbelief. How must it feel to be so seasoned in war but be bested by a boy king? "Now," Robb's chair screeched as it slid back and he was on his feet, "I will give you your Kingslayer son when you hand me Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch as agreed."

"I want to see my son first. You think of me simple-minded if you think I would just trust your words." Tywin's reply was said with thinned lips and half a snarl. His face was red and his fist clenched so tight that Jon thought that if anything had been in his hand then, it would've been crushed to several pieces by the strength of his anger.

"Come with me then." Robb turned with them following behind, guarding him as they went to the bay and towards the ship. The ship bells rung as they always did while Robb, Jon, and Greatjon climbed up the gangplank and into the ship. They disappeared for a while until Greatjon had brought Jaime Lannister at the top of the gangplank in irons, looking just as he did if not worse than when they made their way here.

Tywin nodded his head stiffly, bringing forth an iron-clasped Gregor and Amory. The Mountain looked terrifyingly angry, almost like he could snap the irons in one-go. He was thankful of the powder or else he was sure that The Mountain would unleash himself and cause a bloody frenzy. Amory, however, looked entirely fearful as if he knew the fate that would come to him.

Lord Rickard and his sons escorted them into the boat while Greatjon brought Jaime to his father. Handing the chains, Lord Umber gave him an arrogant smirk while handing him the key to Jaime's chains. "You ought to hope Ned's bastard won't kill 'im the next time we meet."

"And you should pray we don't, Lord Umber." The Lannister Lord told him, eyeing his son vehemently at the corner of his eyes. Greatjon returned to the ship as the rest of the Northern and Riverlords Robb decided to bring with him to Dorne boarded. Robb and Jon stared out at Tywin, watching them undo the clasps while the boat began to sail. Jon couldn't forget the fire that was burning in Tywin's eyes at the slight he endured. What will come out of it? He wasn't all too sure.

Now it was off to Dorne.

 **...**

"You're leaving as well, Lady Catelyn?"

It seemed like this place would be empty now. Jon and Robb, and now Lady Catelyn was leaving? She had the healing staff but none of them was as close to her than those three were. They were the reason she was here, after all. Otherwise, she would be in Wintertown back in the clinic. "I'll be going to The Reach. I think it is wise that we stand with Lord Renly." She sighed, "He has the bigger envoy with his soon to be marriage and the people like him best. I know that a good king does not come by who the people like more, but if Robb is going to win and Dorne won't give him an army, he'll need Renly and Lord Tyrell."

Amara wasn't all too sure. She swore that she heard that Lord Stannis was the one who had the bigger fleet, but what proved more useful? A fleet or infantry? A ship could be blown to pieces before it even touched the shore, couldn't it? Now she was beginning to see why the choice became so dire now. Her head move in a slow nod, understanding Lady Catelyn and Robb's decision. "I pray you travel safely then."

The Tully woman's lips cornered upward in a smile, "You can come with me if you'd like. It is quite a ride to Bitterbridge, and your company would be enjoyable."

"I can't." She shook her head, "I think I want to visit Winterfell." Her hand rubbed the space beneath her collarbone, her chest felt heavier by the day. "I miss Austin terribly, and I want to see Lords Bran and Rickon. I want to know if they're doing well with my own eyes. Letters leaves me paranoid, my lady."

It was weak of her, she scolded herself for days for not being strong enough to keep carrying on. Jon would be gone for some time and so she thought it wise, visiting her son until the men returned and start the campaign of the Westerlands. Her absence would be fine. Amara reasoned that they didn't need her now and most of the men injured here were in more than capable hands. She had done all that she could anyway, so why not visit Austin and the Starks boys? They needed a familiar face besides Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin.

"Hearing you say that makes me feel like a terrible mother." That was never her intention, and she felt apologetic immediately. Shaking her head, she grasped Lady Catelyn's hands to say her apologies, but the woman hushed her and continued speaking as if she knew just what Amara was going to say. "I feel that Robb needs me more when I know very well that Brandon and Rickon need me more than Robb does. I've come to terms that he is no longer a boy, but very much a man. His actions might be rash and green, but he has people to help him. He has you and he has…" Must it be so hard to acknowledge Jon?

The healer found herself frowning at that, "He _has_ Jon." Her voice was stern, almost wanting to force Lady Catelyn to acknowledge all that Jon had did for his brother and will do in the future. Even though she enjoyed Lady Catelyn, Jon's name would not be slugged in dirt nor talked down to in her presence. It made them at odds before and she would take it again, for him.

"He does have him." Lady Catelyn sighed so heavily, that it seemed all the air left body. It was almost like she was admitting defeat by accepting or more like acknowledging that, "I feared that one day Jon would want to lay claim to Winterfell, to Robb's title. I was wrong, I see that now. He loves my son and has not asked for anything in return nor notoriety for his accomplishments. I even heard him try to stop Robb from legitimizing him until Robb would not be swayed."

It made Amara wonder just how Jon would feel hearing this. Would he be happy or would he even care? He didn't seem to want Lady Catelyn's acknowledgement, but he never wanted her scorn. If he knew she wouldn't look at him with hateful eyes anymore, would he feel at ease? She wouldn't be a mother to him and Amara knew Jon never wished for that. He rather be loved by his own mother than by another woman in her place.

"I'm glad you see that now, Lady Catelyn." Unsure of what to say, she decided to smile since she did feel happy to know that Jon was not to be ignored; he was seen for what he did and who he was. "But you are not a terrible mother." _'Just a terrible foster mother'_ , Amara thought to herself. "Your boys will understand one day, even if it is not today."

"Either way, you need someone to accompany you." Lady Catelyn was persistent, even more so than the norm. "I would rather you not go alone. Can you visit them when Robb comes back from Dorne? Someone must go with you. Someone to keep you safe."

"I'll be fine." It felt nice to have someone worry other than Jon. Only the Gods know that she didn't want his mind to be at unease, but she didn't want to Lady Catelyn to be the substitute. She had other things to worry about, especially about her trip to Bitterbridge. She didn't wanted to worried over or not waste men for protection. Amara knew that she could protect herself, even if Lady Catelyn hadn't truly known that.

Catelyn shook her head, unable to let this go. "Amara, Roose Bolton's monstrous bastard is nothing to take lightly."

 **...**

Dorne's sun was unrelenting, and it would've been wiser to wear lighter clothes. His hand shielded his eyes from the sun, which squinted as they looked out to the beautiful Capital, Sunspear. The walls were impressive and looked to be formidable. It is, after all, unconquerable. And to be before it now was almost like a dream of sorts. "After being in Winterfell all my life, I never imagined seeing a place like this." Jon said to Robb, who was standing beside him, marveling at the place they've only seen drawings and paintings of. His king brother also seemed to not be taking kind to the sweltering heat himself, constantly wiping his brow with the back of his wrist and taking off his cloak along with his gloves.

"I'd sooner be naked than stay in this sun any longer." Lady Mormont said, she too was wiping her perspiring forehead. "How in Seven hells do these people live like this?"

"The last thing anyone would want, Maege, is to see you bare as the day you were born; centuries go, might I add." Greatjon belted out, many of the men laughing along with him. Jon still couldn't really come to think just how boisterous Lord Umber was, as well as blunt. "I don't give a damn if I never see a woman again, I'd take that over a butt-bare She-bear."

"Quite a good joke, Greatjon. I'd sooner cut off your cock than let another poor maid squint to see it." She spat in return, and Jon found himself and many of the other men tried to struggle to keep their laughs in, but couldn't help but to let them fill the air. "Tell me, how many tries did it take until ya got your boy? Does the thing even tent anymore, _Greatjon_?"

The two kept going back and forth, the insults becoming more grotesque as they kept going. The days on the ship were filled with laughter, even until the last day. Maybe it was best they had kept a shorter number of the Northern and Riverlords they decided to bring with them. It seemed so strange that the prim and gallantly Rivermen wanted to even associated themselves with the Northern folk.

"Enough!" Robb, despite smiling, didn't want to hear anymore of this conversation. "You're both making me ill from this feud." Laughs still rung true as the King shook his head, knowing that no matter what he said, they were bound to go at it again. He had to change the gear of things, however. There was a major reason why they were here. "Do the Martells know that we're here, Marq?"

Marq Piper nodded his head, "Yes, and they are preparing to give you a warm welcome."

"Anymore warm and we'll die from heatstroke." Robb rolled his eyes before staring out at the beauty of the desert like region. He could see that a column of people were coming this way, but they were awfully slow for his liking.

"I'd sooner they bring me a pretty Dornish whore." Theon sighed, a little too happy for Robb's and Jon's taste. He seemed a bit broken up about not going to Pyke, but now he seemed content as ever. "That's the reason I came on this trip in the first place. Never tasted me a Dornish girl with some Dornish wine."

"We're not here for that, Theon." Jon warned him, feeling like he was scolding a child who seen too many things they liked in the market. In fact, it was exactly like the time he went to market with Amara and Austin, and Austin tried to sweep the place clean. "We're here to get a larger army."

Theon brows bowed at that, "Just because you got yourself—" Torrhen covered his mouth, silencing him from saying more. Jon was surprised at that, watching the Greyjoy struggle as Robb watched the interaction with squinting, suspicious eyes.

"Ha, you know Theon! Never knows when to shut that trap of his." Unsure of why Torrhen was helping him, he nodded his head and gave Jon a knowing look, who returned it with a slow and unsure nod of his own. He pulled Theon to the back and hopefully that would be the last of the Greyjoy attempts of spilling any secrets that weren't meant for him to tell.

It didn't take long before a group of people with several soldiers made their way. Leading them was a man of olive tone skin that was native to Dorne. His hair was short and black with a mustache and a clean, thinly close-shaven beard. He was smiling at them but the smile didn't reach his eyes. No, Jon could see that his black eyes held volatile suspicion and immediate distrust. It made him wonder if things were going to go as planned or maybe they wouldn't even set foot off the boat this rate.

Next to the Dornishman was a woman of curly black hair that reached her breasts with matching dark eyes that seemed to drawn you in instantaneously. She smiled as she walked alongside him, which made Jon believe they might've been married or lovers of some sort by the closeness. Behind them were three girls, possibly close to Robb and himself in age that seemed to be interested in what was happening and at the same time also sharing the same distrust as the man in front had.

"Never thought I'd see a Stark on my lands." said the men that led them all, "I was sure that you all would've melt."

Robb smiled at his jest, returning it in kind despite how the humidity was irritating him. "Believe me, I think I am."

"Robb Stark or should I say, King in the North." He then bowed and the others did too, which seemed strange since most people outside of the North didn't taken Robb's claim as King in the North seriously. Was this an act of hospitality and kindness or was this all for show? It was impossible to tell. "I am Prince Oberyn Martell, you claim to have business with Dorne, so I'll shall be the one to escort you to my brother. I also will be the first to say Welcome to Dorne."

Prince Oberyn was a rather charismatic person in spite of holding such a fearsome reputation. He kept finding anything to talk about along the way. He also seemed rather interested in the direwolves yet warned they could not go inside the castle for several reasons. Jon didn't like the idea of Ghost and Grey Wind being out in this humid weather, but Oberyn promised them a shady place and some bones to chew on. Seeing as the two of them had no other choice, Robb and Jon sourly agreed and kept their hostile threats behind their lips. He kept talking until they reached the throne room where Oberyn took a seat beside his brother, Doran Martell.

The throne room was rather extravagant; so many paintings on the walls, the floors spotless, and it was entirely bright. Jon couldn't help but to look around since he doubted he would ever see this place again. And for that, he couldn't help but think of days of old with the wars and stories that had taken place in this city alone. His eyes then ventured up to notice a woman was in the room as well. She wasn't Oberyn's paramour as he explained of Ellaria Sand, but she was the eldest child, daughter, and heir of Doran; Arianne. They had heard stories of her famed beauty, and stories didn't live up to seeing her in person.

"King Robb Stark is what they call you now, isn't it?" Doran said as to which Robb nodded, "So Westeros is split in two; the South and the North."

"The Lannisters make it so." Robb laid on hand atop of the other in front of him as he stood with perfect posture and not a trace of a slouch. "It wasn't my intention until I realized that reason does not sit well with them."

"You've only just noticed that?" Both Robb and Doran smiled at that, and Jon had hope to believe that things would go in their favor. "But what brings you to Dorne? I have my suspicions but I'd rather hear you speak first."

His king brother nodded, almost expecting that. "I came bearing gifts, Prince Doran. Gifts that I think you've been owed since Robert's Rebellion."

Doran's smile quickly wiped away as did Oberyn's. "If this is some joke, Stark, I do not find it humorous."

"It is not." Looking over his shoulder, Robb raised a hand waved it forward. Greatjon and Ser Brynden had escorted the Mountain and Amory Lorch, who had sacks above their heads. They were bent at the knees against the floors before the sacks were removed for the Martells to see. Oberyn's eyes widened, Arianne gasped, but Doran remained still. "My father thought what they did to your family was monstrous, and he and the late King had not spoken to each other in years because of it. I present you the Mountain and Amory Lorch, who murdered Princess Elia Martell and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen."

"Why do you bring them to us? Alive, no less. What makes you want to be so kind as to give us their murderers? What is it that you want, Stark?" Oberyn was heated, livid. He didn't know whether to hate them or be grateful.

"I'm letting you do as you please with them is all." Robb explained with his jaw tight from the small slight, "I also would like to be rid of them for the rapers and murderers they are. People have suffered enough, but your vengeance should be well fed."

"And what of the man that gave the order?" Standing on his feet, he eyed the both of them with a look so sinister they could've died if it held any power. "What of Tywin Lannister?! He gave the order!" The wound of those years ago hadn't lessened nor calmed Oberyn, it made him hostile and mournful on a path of bloody revenge.

Jon decided to speak in Robb's stead, who looked to be getting riled up himself. "He is our enemy as well. If we finish him, we march to King's Landing. We plan to back either Baratheon that wins since we have no care for the Iron Throne, the North only matter to us."

"You would rather one of the usurper pig's brothers take the throne?" It didn't make sense to the Red Viper, who stood before Amory and Gregor, "Why not take it for yourself? If your father had taken it instead, your precious lands wouldn't have gone to shit and he might still be alive today."

"You may be right, Prince Oberyn." Jon was grateful his father didn't take the throne. Someone would've tried to end his life every day while he sat on it, but he would've been a good king though. He was a good Northern Lord, a good Hand, and he would've been an even better King. "My father didn't think the throne was right for him, he loved the North too much. But Lord Stannis has the right to the throne, usurper brother or not, as well as Lord Renly."

"And what is the price of all this?" Doran questioned, "You still haven't told us what you are to gain?"

Robb decided to take the floor again, having composed himself back to his calm demeanor. "We would like an army, but if you aren't willing to give us an army, then remain neutral and side with no one in this war. Let the North and South fight and stay within Dorne."

The terms were simple and both of them posed no wrongdoing to either one of them, but they needed the army. Jon eyed the princes and princess, who looked to be in serious thought. Arianne played with the ends of her dress, eyes alight with interest. "If you give them an army, Father, you can get your vengeance on Lord Tywin."

"That is only one fruit out of an entire tree." Her father said, his eyes looking in her direction from their corners before looking back at both Robb and Jon. "I would rather us have a King and an Iron Throne with you as Queen."

Something told Jon that was the case, but Lord Renly's bride was Margaery Tyrell and Lord Stannis was already married. Neither one of them was available to Arianne, and Robb didn't want the throne, and he too was promised to a Frey girl, but Jon realized that the betrothal could be broken. They didn't need Lord Walder Frey anymore, but did Robb want to marry Arianne? Jon doubted that because it meant he would have to take the Iron Throne.

"I shall think on it, Your Grace." Doran closed his eyes, giving a slight nod. "Please stay for a few days, the hospitality of Dorne is yours."

* * *

 **A/N** : So much is going to be happening. So. Much.

Since I gave definition what Amara name means, if you're curious about the rest of her family's then you can always tell me! I'm never sure if you guys are interested in stuff like that. I just like throwing out random facts.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note:** Back to my long chapters again!

* * *

 **:** _Jon's Dream_ **:**

He never told anyone of this place, this very place he had been to before. After all, who would've believed him? There had never been a time that he Winterfell for all his seventeen years of life according to all who know him. But Jon could beg to differ, he left his home before. He left to a place where all before and around him was entirely made of ice; from the thick and cold floor that glistened that could make you slip from a single step to the icicles than hung from over your head that seemed to only thaw from the ends of them. When the water from the fell, it would make you shiver instantly. It commonly would hit the top of your head or even the tip of your nose, leaving a freezing trail in its wake. The place had a lot of light that peeked in from small circles naturally cut in the ceiling. Most caves had ways of having light within them while others were too dark and a person needed a torch just to see what was before them.

Call it a loner's spell for the reason why Jon enjoyed this place. Maybe this cave reminded him of himself, more than his very home of Winterfell. This cave of ice always felt like a home to him; always alone, surrounded by ice. This place seemed to made specially for him, at least that's what his young mind always told him. Lonely people tended to find lonely places, and this place was immediately embraced by him. It was his escape when things were too hard for him to bear and when he didn't want to be reminded of who he was. It was place that he didn't have to share. Jon hated leaving this place in his dreams for outside was Winterfell, reality, and that meant to be the outsider in his own family—his half family precisely—as he always been again.

This place wasn't real, he always knew that. It was a dream, he knew that because such a good place was too good to be true. And in this dream, he was just a boy. And just like any boy, when he found something, he claimed it. The first thing he claimed within this place was the egg that sat unattended. He would circle it for as long as he could, watching and waiting for it to hatch. Normally a person wouldn't care about some silly egg. This wasn't just any regular egg however, it was special. It was made of ice and it would beckon him, speak to him, question him; it would do everything that no other egg would do except hatch. His frustrations and impatience grew due the overwhelming curiosity he had for what was inside of it.

Though today had been different from the previous visits. The egg didn't still didn't hatch, as usual, but for the first time he heard footfalls that were not his own. A person was here or coming to the ice room that the egg stayed within, and that frightened him. Startled whilst being quick on his feet, he sprinted towards an ice-shape stalagmite to hide behind. Jon couldn't begin to figure out who this person could be since nobody hd came here before. It easily could been his siblings or his father, but he was entirely sure that none of them had knew of this place. When he peeked out far enough to catch sight of who came to his place of solace, he had saw that it wasn't his father, the Warden of the North, and nor was it his perfect brother Robb. It wasn't his little and lady-like sister Sansa either or meddlesome toddlers Arya and Bran. It was a girl he never seen before that entered this place he thought only he knew.

She wasn't from Winterfell, that much was at least obvious to him. There weren't many girls in Winterfell nearing him in age, and the only one Jon could think of was Jeyne Poole. He didn't like her, she always ignored him, and was always on Robb's heels if she wasn't latched to Sansa's side. And this girl was no Jeyne. He also thought Jeyne would be scared of this place because of the bed of sharp ice above your head that could pierce you if they plummeted down. This one—this girl—however, didn't look the slightest bit of fearful. Instead, her eyes were too busy preoccupied gazing at the ice egg, and she even went as far to pick it up.

That made him hold his breath.

All she did was examine it with her face revealing her blatant confusion and her eyes filled with questions that nobody could give answers to. Jon couldn't give her any answers. He was also sure that he didn't want to.

His grey eyes watched as she seemed bored with it and then placed it down, turning to leave as if the egg wasn't a treasure worth taking. His brow raised in curiosity, watching every step she had taken, before she turned to look back at the egg as if it called out to her. Jon immediately thought of when that very same thing happened to him. Did it speak to her? If it did then what did it say? Sharp pieces of him felt jealous because he thought that he was the only special one, but other parts of him wondered if the egg would just talk to anyone willing to listen.

Whatever it said to her, it made her come running back with her bare feet patting themselves loudly against the ice floor. The girl with mud covered feet and blue eyes, scooped the egg in her short, skinny arms to give it a secure fit, like she was embracing it as tightly her small body could. It was pressed to her chest and Jon sore he saw frost gathering on her skin from the egg. Nevermind that now, he shook his head with eyes wide of realization. He realized that girl was about to take it, taking it wherever she had came from.

"Stop!" His hand, gloved and opened, reached out to her as he yelled. Jon had already took a few steps away from the stalagmite of ice to stop her. His voice made the girl jump, blanching, but she kept her arms around the egg in efforts to not drop it. Jon had to be thankful for that even though she wasn't supposed to take it in the first place. "That's not yours, it's mine!" He told her, his voice shook with irritation and somewhat uncertainty.

"Who says?"

He would've thought a girl would've been nervous, even if it was just a little bit. It would be an understatement to even say that he was at a loss for words at her response. Nevermind her whole boldness, he was tongue-tied. Jon had no idea how he could he properly explain how the egg belonged to him. His eyes looked around in thought, trying to come up with an answer. He slowly lowered his arm, having no need to reach out and stop her now, since she was still at the moment. "Well, it's… I…" Nothing sounded like a good not reason until he thought, "I was here first!"

"So what?!" She quickly shot that head spun fiercely so that her eyes could look at him, and Jon immediately froze in place as she glared at him unabashedly. He never seen a girl so fierce, so angry before, and he found himself rather fearful of her than he felt fear over anything.

He drew his bottom lip in, wetting it as he tried to shake away his stupid weak-kneedness. Balling his hands into fists, he readied himself to fight for what he knew belonged to him. "So that means it's mine! You can't just take something that isn't yours." Growing bravery, he began marching forward until he stood before her, towering over her by just a few inches as his hands quickly held the sides of the egg to snatch it from her. "I was here first, I saw it first, and the egg speaks to me. So it is mine by right."

"This is cave, stupid! There no rights in cave!" The black-haired girl quipped, trying to shake his hold by twisting and turning, making his hands slide off the the glass-like shell. "It speaks to me too!"

Jon suspected that, and that made him even more angry; not so much at her, but at this egg. Did it want to be taken by her? Honestly, he wanted to know what exactly did the egg truly want. Did it want to go with her? Did it want to be fought over? Why out of all times did it choose to be silent during their squabble? No matter the reason, Jon wasn't about to let it go. He was going to keep this egg, and he wasn't going to let some little girl take it from him. "Give it back!"

"No!"

Their tussle could only go but so far since Jon wasn't using his full strength. His father always taught him to never harm girls, but what was he do to if a girl were a thief? How could he let her get away with taking what was his? And she wasn't going to give up and admit her wrongs; she was stubborn as a dog with a bone. "Give it back!" He argued again with hopes that she'd realize her mistake and give it up.

It was quickly, the way her head came slowly forward so that her forehead pressed to his own. He was at a loss of words, barely able to draw a breath, as his eyes fully opened to see that her eyes were not black, but blue. He swore from the distance he saw her from that her eyes were as black as her hair yet he was proven wrong. Strange as it was, he was captivated by them straightaway, and he could feel the egg slip out of his hands because of his distraction. With a triumphant smirk, she drew herself and stuck out her tongue at him afterwards before making a run for the cave's only entrance and only exit.

Snapping out of it, he shook his head and then chased after her. Nevermind would they be going back to Winterfell, he just wanted the egg back. Jon wasn't the fastest runner nor was he the best at stealth, but he was pushing himself to a limit he didn't even know he had. His legs were using every muscle to make sure that he could outrun or at least catch her. All of that didn't matter when he noticed how strange the situation was, in fact, he slowly began to stop running and ease into a walk as he come to notice that they didn't leave. They did venture towards the exit but they only ended up repeating the same setting over and over, almost like they were stuck in an endless loop.

She noticed it too because out of sheer shock, the both of them turned to look at one another with horrified faces. It was as if they were trying to confirm with one another that this was truly happening, and seeing the look on each other's faces only proved that it was true. "We're… we're not leaving cave." Her voice was shaking with fear and her eyes kept frantically looking around before they bore themselves to look at his, "Why aren't we leaving?"

He wished he knew the answer, but how could he? He was just as scared and confused as she was. "I… I don't know." Jon shook his head, pressing a hand to the side of his head to scratch it. "We should be in Winterfell by now."

"Winter…fell?" He eyed her as she squinted her eyes, possibly trying to fire out what Winterfell was. "No! Not Winterfell! We're in Yin!" Now it was his turn to squint, his eyes reflecting their skepticism whilst searching in his own mind where this Yin place was.

Neither one knew what the other was talking about.

"Where is Yin? This is the North, you know, in Westeros."

"No, this is Yi Ti." She shook her head, steadfast with her beliefs. "We're by Jade sea. Lots of seas."

For a odd few minutes, they stared at one another trying to understand what exactly was happening. "So… You're saying this cave is across the seas?" It was probably stupid to ask but he did it anyway. He was truly trying to comprehend or to at least see it from her point-of-view, "But that's impossible, I found this place in the woods of Winterfell."

Her eyes roamed up and down at him, taking him in. Their clothes proved that the both of them was telling the truth because neither of them wore outfits native to each other's land or people. Her hairstyle was even different, he never seen girls wearing what he thought—he named them since he didn't know what they were called—loopies on their heads. There were two of them, one for each side of her head.

"But… how?" Her eyes took interest back to the mouth of the cave, "I too in woods."

After contemplating on how this exactly happened, the both of them tried to leave again just to fail. After a few more tries, they finally gave up and sat down in front of the ice stand that the egg was once on. The girl still held it close, acting as if she was going to keep it forever. Jon began to wonder if it was the egg that was making them unable to leave. What if a person couldn't leave if they took it? That sounded right to him but with the way she was acting, Jon doubted she would believe him if he said it. She would no doubt think that he was saying that just so he could take it from her. So they sat there in strange silence without so much as looking at one another. The eerie sound of the cave was that only thing being vocal right now. Well, not anymore.

"Boy," Jon assumed that meant she was trying to speak to him.

With a dull stare, he looked at her with a retort ready on his lips. "My name is not boy."

She rolled her eyes, "What is name then?" Why was she so rude? He asked himself. Girls were supposed to be sweet and proper. Sansa could put her to shame with her lady-like ways and she was only six.

"Jon." He answered her anyway. He was half tempted to not say the last name. Part of him felt that it was a name that would always be carried with him, so why hide it now? "Jon Snow." She looked at him with confusion at first but then shrugged her shoulders, curiosity satiated. Since she was foreign, she probably didn't know that Snow was a bastard name in the North. "What's yours?"

"Amara." There was a hint of pride as she said her name, she stuck her chin out and held her head high. "Bataar Amara," With a smile, she turned to look at him rather smugly, "Princess of Yin."

Princess? Did she say princess? His lips parted in surprise, eyes blinking twice. The first sound that came out of him was a snort only for it to transform into a unstoppable and loud fit of laughter. The whole cave let it bounce off the walls as he felt like it was truly never-ending. Her? A princess? This girl? This girl that was dirty from shoulders to feet, undeniably rude, and attempting to steal an egg was a princess? His sides rattled as he clutched onto them, his back slowly laid down onto the floor before he rolled to his side as he curled up. It may have not been _that_ funny, but he wanted to irk her just as she irked him. Still, it was hilarious and unbelievable. If she thought she could fool him than she had another thing coming.

"Why laughing?!" Her accent had gotten very heavy right then. It was so thick that Jon wasn't sure if he could understand exactly what she just said. It wasn't very hard to understand her; sure, her sentencing and wording was off, but she knew a good amount of words and knew where to place them. She was probably still learning the common language, but it was funny to see her so angry and unable to truly express it. "I didn't tell joke!"

"But you did." Wiping the pool of tears collected at the corner of his eyes, he turned to look at her while trying to catch his breath. "You said _you_ were a princess."

It appeared she understood what he meant now. Her eyes went wide with realization before they narrowed like a Shadowcat's as her body trembled with angry, truly offended that he thought she was telling a lie. He watched her put the egg down onto the floor with care and then bring her frost-covered hands towards him to gather a fist full of his tunic. Jon blinked twice, more than shocked at how strong she was to be a girl. "I am princess, stupid boy!"

Clearing his throat, he was sure that she should've been uncomfortable that their noses and foreheads were grazing one another's. This time was entirely worse than the last. Usually girls in the North were extremely shy about this kind of closeness with the opposite sex and here she was, not the slightest bit of timid or mindful about it. She absolutely did not care. Instead, he was the only one shaken by it. His shoulders went up and down as he sighed while he told himself he'll be kind as to explain why he didn't see her as one.

"For one, you're rude and possess no manners." He stated matter-of-factly as he continued the list, holding his hand out to match count. "Second, you aren't dressed like one. What kind of princess gets themselves so dirty?" His third finger raise simultaneously as he spoke, "Third, why would a princess steal an egg that wasn't rightfully hers? You have so many things, so many riches, why would you need something that someone else wants?"

In the intensity of her anger, he could see a look of reason softening her face. And just for a second, he thought maybe they would hit some common ground, only to realize that she was still completely infuriated. "Princess can be angry too; princess have feelings. I like to run around; run around means to get dirty. Egg doesn't belong to anyone now. It wasn't yours because you say. If yours, you take it."

"The egg doesn't want to be taken!" He didn't mean to raise his voice but Jon was frustrated too. He was stuck in this place of solace with a girl who was mean and rude, and tried to steal something that was his. She didn't like that he was the one yelling now, for what other reason would she have to push him like that? He landed on his backside, making him hiss from the sudden impact and give her a fearsome glare of his own.

"Fine! Keep stupid egg, stupid boy." He really had a hard time trying to understand why she was so mean. She was nothing like the Northern girls. Girls like her were trouble, he thought.

She took a seat at the far end of the cave, cuddling close to herself. It didn't take a genius to know that she was probably cold due to how freezing it was in here plus how thin her clothes were. Why should it matter to him though? This "princess" threw him to the ground and yelled at him a good half of time since they met. He wasn't going to worry about her. She didn't care about him after all.

They sat in opposite sides of the cave, which couldn't help but overly highlight how opposite they were in their own rights: a boy and a girl, Westerosi and YiTish; bastard and "princess". There was nothing in common for the both of them, which was why they weren't naturally made to like one another. That's why they didn't need or probably even couldn't be on the same side, let alone understand each other.

It was quiet until his ears picked up on the increasing sound of her chattering teeth. Out of the corners of his eyes, he could espy the sight of her hands rubbing her goose-pimpled arms before rubbing together to create warmth before they repeated the process. Her chattering teeth were annoying him, but what bothered him more was that she was purposely trying to hide the fact that she was freezing. What was the point? He already knew. Was she going to lie to his face now?

Being raised in the North, he had all the right clothing; the thick and woolly tunic with long sleeves, long breeches, boots, and a cloak with fur to keep the neck and shoulders warm. Even though he could be cold as anyone else, it was less intense than someone who wasn't used to it. And from her clothes alone, Jon could tell that she was hardly used to the biting cold. She would likely freeze or get herself sick.

It was more than likely that it was the good in him that was nagging his mind to help her. It also could've been the annoyance of the sound of her teeth making a steady rhythm when they hit each other as well. Jon sighed to himself, wondering why did he always have to cave in and be the good one? The one that was just; honorable. Whenever the ability to be selfish presented itself to him, he always chose the small percentage that told him it wasn't right. It never could allow him to ignore those that needed help. Even to those that had been unkind to him.

With another sigh, the boy got himself to his feet and stood just to see her rubbing her arms much faster now. Biting the inside of his cheek, he began to undo his cloak as his quietly made his way over towards her with very hesitant steps. Once he was close to cast a shadow over her, her eyes slowly looked up to meet his and he could already tell that she was just itching to give him that bark and bite of hers. Before that mouth would go make him regret it, he kept her quiet when he laid that cloak of his on top of her much more gently than he intended.

He didn't utter a single word nor expected a thanks from her before he walked back on what was dubbed his side of the cave. He sat down cross-legged with his eyes staring off into space, losing focus on anything just to blankly stare. She fought to take it off her head, just so that he could timely see how her eyes broadened in surprise and her lips parted to add life to her shock.

Her lips kept parting and closing, unsure if she should say what she wanted to say. He nearly turned his eyes away to ignore her because he thought she might opt to stay quiet, but he was a bit surprised. "Why? Why did you give?"

Her voice was surprisingly soft; she wasn't yelling nor was she glaring. She looked genuinely confused and she let it wrap around her, not letting any piece of exposed skin be seen and touched by the cold. "Because you needed it." He entertained her with an answer even though he preferred silence. "Keep you from cold." That might've been more understandable to her ear.

His eyes made their way to look at her again despite his inner protests. She was holding it tight to her form with an odd expression; she seemed to be smiling, so much so that her eyes seemed to be doing it too. What was there to be happy about? He just saved her from being sick, that's all.

"Thank you." A lump formed in his throat as he eyed her, still not believing that she thanked him for that small act of kindness.

It was quiet again, but a good kind of quiet. The heat of their anger towards one another didn't roll off them, clashing against one another in attempt to overpower the other. They just sat there with Jon feeling a bit nippy without his cloak yet undoubtedly fine. He rubbed his leather-gloved hands up and down his arm, easing the cold that was trying to seep into his skin. It wasn't long until he felt his shoulders being covered by his black cape again and the dark-haired girl sitting next to him. She was offering to share—stubbornly and without word—but sharing it nonetheless.

Jon, beyond puzzled, watched her as she kept her eyes looking ahead as if she was too afraid to look at him. Her face was turning a shade of red as the minutes rolled on and her cheeks were fully puffed out like a child. If she kept that going any longer, she would've looked like a ripe tomato. "Stop staring." She told him with warning almost like she would do something if he kept on with it.

His dark eyebrows knitted together out of mild frustration at her attitude yet he smiled because despite it all, she cared. He wasn't sure why she was afraid to admit or didn't want to be thankful to him, but Jon hardly knew why girls did what they did or said what they said anyway. "Girls are strange." Jon found himself saying aloud, almost not caring that she even heard him.

"You are strange." The girl he learned to be Amara said back to him as they sat on the cold, ice floor.

"You're very strange, Amara Bataar, Princess of Yin." She stared at him then, instantly frowning as she knew he was teasing her. He smiled and after seeing her look of irritation, but she began to smile too after what felt like a long miniature fight she had internally.

"You have nice smile."

Now it was his turn to blush, lowering his head sheepishly so that he could hide it and also because he became unsure of what to do with himself. His hand combed through his curly locks, unsure how to take such a compliment. "W-What makes you say that?"

Amara shrugged her shoulders, "When you smile, I smile too." Her explanation was to the point. Nobody had told him something like that before. In fact, he wasn't sure when he was ever complimented about a physical feature of his. He sat there with his eyes focused on her, watching her stare out into nothing after she told him that.

"Why do you want the egg?" Jon finally asked, thinking it was about time that he knew her objective about it. She had to have a reason for wanting it right? It couldn't be because it was an egg or because it was pretty, he was sure she had her reasons for wanting to take it.

"Egg told me: "Soon in the long Winter, never in the long Summer." and then said, "You will know who I belong to." I thought to take it to owner."

His lips slowly dipped down into a well-deserved frown, asking himself if it were true that he wasn't the owner of it after all. His eyes then rested on the egg to give it a hard glare; why had it wasted his time? "I think it means to wait when it hatches." Although he felt spiteful to the egg for leading him on to believe he had some part of its destiny, he wasn't going to take his frustrations out on her. She nodded in understanding, but then loudly gasp when he grabbed her hand. "Let's leave it. You have to go home soon, don't you?"

"Yes! Father most angry when run around far." He wasn't sure of the reason, it possibly could've been since the way she shown fear over something so simple like that then this cave, that he found it cute. She didn't fear this ice cave, but she surely feared her father. She grasped his hand much more tightly, almost as if she was allowing him to lead her. "Jon father get angry too when running far?" Jon nodded in reply to which she smiled, "Fathers always angry. So scary."

Jon wouldn't say his father was always angry. Ned didn't yell unless he truly felt the need, and he didn't hit you like some fathers did. When he was angry, however, it was best to tread carefully. "I heard mother's are scary."

"Mothers not scary. My mother nice." Their steps were slow, allowing her to walk beside him than being pulled as they held hands. "My mother sweet and gives candies."

While his body tingled with jealousy, he found himself chuckling at the idea that what made her mother more lovable to her was because of candy. It must've been easy to get her to like you. Maybe if he had some candy or the lemon cakes Sansa liked so much, they might've never fought. "I don't have one." He told her, calmly, "I don't have a mother."

At first, she seemed perplexed and Jon wondered if it was because she didn't understand him. He parted his lips to explain in a simpler fashion but she spoke before he could. "We share mine?" Stunned, he stopped walking and stared at her as if she said the most profound thing in the world. "Mother wants more boy! Have little brother but older boy, she like."

"I don't think your mother will want a boy from the North." His heart was beating, fast, and he almost felt a surge of happiness that someone wanted him in their family. That wanted feeling was more warming than he ever thought it could be, and must've been what the Stark children felt everyday when they looked in their mother's eyes.

"Mother wouldn't care, North or South; Jon still boy." He eyed her, seeing her eyes aflame in her argument. She must've liked to argue. "Can't marry you and you become son, I marry someone else."

She was only a child and she was already betrothed? She could be no younger than ten, and she knew that she was going to marry someone. The entrance and exit of the cave was before them now, and unlike before the light of outside was peeking in but it was blocked off from showing what lied beyond. It was like a wall of light. "Do you want to marry him?" He wondered if she had met him yet. It must be scary to be young and being told you were going to marry.

"Yes." She strained herself to smile, and Jon could tell that it was fake right off the bat. It didn't match her eyes, not showing that mirthful look like she had when she warmed herself with his cloak. They were still joined together by it, letting it rest on their shoulders as they stood alongside one another. "He nice. He give me gifts and says eyes are like water."

There was nothing he could say that could help her. This was the way of the world, and that was such a harsh realization at such a young age. He felt sorry for her and he was sure that was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. "Amara!" The voice belonged to neither one of them, and it was foreign just like Amara's own. Amara's hand tightened its hold on his as she looked into the voice of light.

Her shoulders trembled as she gave out a light, uneasy laugh. "Father calls me." It was most likely that she was afraid because she knew she was going to be in trouble.

"Jon!"

That was his father's voice. His head looked to the voice, blinking in surprise until his eyes crinkled in happiness. He was so happy to know his father was out looking for him, caring that he had gone missing. "My father calls me too." Amara then slipped her hand out of his grasp, making him look at her rather sadly at the idea they were going to part. "What are you doing?"

Amara turned around to back back in the cave, "Be back!" She said to him, going further in the distance.

He waited, hearing both their parents call them out in separate minutes. When she came back, she was holding the egg in her arms. Confused, he looked at her to question why she brought the thing but became quiet when she pushed it towards him.

Amara was giving him the egg. "Why are you giving it to me?"

"Egg is yours!"

With a bright smile, and no explanation, Amara gave him a wave goodbye before running out of the cave. Part of him wanted to stop her, and he was sure that he followed after her to stop her, but he was back in Winterfell. Somehow, in the Godwoods at that.

Peering down at his arms, he realized that the egg wasn't there. It was as if it disappeared in thin air. He couldn't help but to think that maybe he just imagined everything. From the cave to the girl, and even the egg. "Jon, where were you? I was searching everywhere for you." Before him was Ned, standing there nearly out of breath but looking relieved all the same.

What could he tell him? That he went to an ice cave and met a girl from Yi Ti? Nobody would believe him. "I… I was taking a nap." He lied, "I'm sorry…"

A large hand tousled his hair, a smile on his father's face. "C'mon, let's go." Jon smiled, glad to know his father wasn't too angry. For the first time, they took the long way back to the castle and had a conversation about dragons.

 **:** _End Dream_ **:**

His eyes quickly shot open, his body forcing him up as he looked around to see that he was still in his apartment in Dorne. His forehead had a sheen a sweat, so much that he brought his hands to his face to wipe it away while trying to decipher what such a dream had meant. Was it even a dream? Did his mind make it up or had he actually lived through such an experience? Was it dream or reality? The right answer felt to be the first, for he was sure he never met Amara long ago. Wouldn't he remembered her if he did? Probably not. They were just children back then, but eyes like hers were hard for him to forget. A whole week and some days had just passed and she was in his dreams already.

Feeling silly over the realization, he flopped himself back down onto the bed and heaved out a sigh. His eyes absently stared at the ceiling before slowly looking towards his right to see out the window. The sun hadn't fully rose and the sky was still a dark blue, giving away that it was still the wee hours in the morning. It would've been wise to go back to sleep for at least an hour yet he couldn't help but to think that Robb was probably already awake. What did that matter now though? There wasn't much to do since Doran had not given them a decision just yet. These were the days where they didn't speak of their plans of the Westerlands in case a spy was around. These were the days to relax until Doran and answer and hopefully an army was given to them.

Before he could process it, he choked out a cough because a large weight had suddenly been placed onto his stomach. He closed one eye just so that the other could fully view Ghost's face before him. The direwolves were let inside after Oberyn and the others seen how well-behaved they were or more like the Sand sisters proved how harmless they could be after playing with them. Ghost was staring down at him now with his red eyes, tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth as he panted. "C'mon, Ghost." Jon's hand patted the white fur of his companion's back, "Let me lay here by myself for a while."

All he was given was a yip and before he felt Ghost's head lie down onto his chest. It appeared that Ghost was starting to do as he liked nowadays, and it was completely Amara's fault. Ghost became so needy for attention now that she came to grow fond of him. She spoiled him; feeding him whatever she didn't like that she knew he did and letting him sleep on her bed when Jon made it so that he slept on the floor. Once he became use to her ways, he thought Jon would let him do the same things she did. It didn't prove true, no matter how much the wolf whined or sought Amara out for defense. He was once a wolf that liked to wander off, enjoying being alone, but now he attached himself to her. He was becoming quite the affectionate direwolf as his brothers Grey Wind and Summer.

He scratched behind Ghost's ear and stayed like that. Since there was no use in fighting and he didn't feel like raising his voice after just waking up, he would just let Ghost have his way this one time. Letting out a rather sad whine, Jon lifted his head up some to look at Ghost, who was staring out into nothing. "Do you miss her already, Ghost?" He asked him, petting him between his ears. Ghost's reply was another whine, nearing a cry. "I miss her too."

He wondered what she was doing back in Riverrun. Since most of the wounded left the infirmary and some men who couldn't be saved were dying as comfortably as the healers could make it, she didn't have much work to do. She did, however, make work for herself by preparing medicine for the future. Amara would spend the other half of her time in the gardens, hunting for flowers with her book in her hand and her nose sinking into the flower heads just to steal a smell of them. Jon thought her the prettiest when she was surrounded by flowers because she always seemed so happy to be near them. And the bright flowerheads surrounding her only made her seem as if she was one of them; blooming steadily with an intensity that was hard to look away from.

Maybe something had been wrong with him. When men usually thought of a woman, they thought how it would be to be with her in the bedchambers. For her to be lying beneath them, nude, writhing and wailing at the pleasure of being joined. He wasn't that abnormal; Jon thought of that a great many of times but it wasn't the only thing. It must've been the guilt of persuading her to stay in Wintertown when she could've gone anywhere else that overwhelmed him from enjoying thinking that way about her. How would life have been for her if she and Austin moved to another village? She might've met a nice lowborn man, be married, and be carrying a child.

Now she was surrounded by wounded men, far away from the reaches of her son, and having feelings for a bastard. Even though his bastard name would still breathe life until after Dorne, it was still there and it still weighed on him like an anchor as it always did. It was the main reason why he couldn't kiss her, out of fear that he would be too greedy and wouldn't leave it at a simple kiss. If Robb were to be mortally wounded or perhaps change his mind about legitimizing him, he couldn't risk getting her pregnant and having her carry a bastard child within her because of his ignored needs. He hadn't kissed or laid with a woman not once before, but he was sure just one kiss would've been enough to make him forget just who he was in this life. It was already hard enough just to hold her in his arms; he could still remember the feel, smell, and warmth of her from memory alone.

Perhaps, it was a good thing Ghost was here or else Jon's thoughts wouldn't have ended at that. "C'mon boy, on the floor now." With a pat and a little more bass in his voice for authority, Ghost leapt off him and patted his paws on the floor before circling and lying down. Jon eyed him from corner of his eyes, seeing Ghost's eyes looking off somewhere, but he could tell that he wasn't happy. "I'll get you the juiciest steak, all right? Don't look at me like that." Ghost paid him no mind and he couldn't help but sigh at that. Steak was usually the sweetener.

It felt like hours had gone by as he lied there, drifting in and out of sleep and trying to keep his mind clear from anything that would distract him long. If it wasn't Amara then it was Arya. If it wasn't Arya then it was Bran. And if it wasn't any of them, it was his father and then it was the look in Tywin Lannister's eyes. Those eyes of his still haunted him since they sailed off. The look in them seemed unforgettable in the worst way. It was as if he'd see the same eyes again in a much more darker setting. If they were ever forced to meet Tywin head on, Jon wasn't sure he would be the one to raise his sword against him. Greatjon might not live if he did either.

How does one defeat someone like Tywin Lannister?

"Are you just going to lie there all day?"

The voice caught him off guard and immediately made him sit upright. His head quickly turned to meet the eyes of his brother, which made him calm down. Robb closed the door behind him before taking a seat, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair and his head resting against his palm. "I was trying to wait until a servant came about breakfast." He gave a half-smile, "What are you doing here?"

"Hiding from the Princess. She's taken a sudden interest in me and I don't know if that's good or bad." Jon wasn't sure if Robb was joking or if it was true, he couldn't help but to think that it might've been true. After all, most girls did find Robb to be everything worth looking for and he was a king now. Shouldn't a princess fancy a prince or king? "Prince Oberyn warned me to be wary of his own niece, she tends to get men to do as she likes and it would be wrong of me to be tempted by such an offer is what he said."

"She is pretty." Jon couldn't help but to say. Arianne Martell was said to be one of the great beauties of Westeros, and also the most persuasive. There had been rumors that she could get a man to bend the knee as well as bend over backwards just to make her smile with a few clicks of her tongue and a certain look in her eyes. She was dangerous without having to lift a sword in her hands.

" _Pretty_ dangerous." Robb corrected him, "If I were made to marry her, I suppose I might've been all right with it."

A bit surprised by that, Jon bowed his brows. "Why is that?"

"An alliance with Dorne through marriage solidifies things and I wouldn't have to marry or be beholden to the Freys." That was one point Jon could understand, so much so that he nodded. "Arianne is smart, beautiful, and would be more than just a woman to bed to give me children, she's savvy enough to understand politics and war to give sound advice." Jon nodded again, seeing that point as well. Not once had he said that he would be happy though. Robb's happiness had been at a complete standstill since they marched out of Winterfell, and Jon was more than worried how Robb was carrying on like this.

"You said you want to marry for love before, but you sound content that might not happen now." His brother wore an unreadable expression right then, his eyes looking down at floor. "You told me once that if people married who they love instead of what that person could give them then Westeros might've been a better place."

Robb seemed surprised that Jon remembered something like that. They had been children when he said it; young and naïve children with no idea how merciless the world was going to be to them. "We can't always have what we want." Such a grim answer and every bit of the truth, "I realized that when father died. I marched to save him, but I couldn't do that. Now I march to avenge him, but what else will I lose along the way? You lose so much at war, even yourself."

"Robb," Letting out a sigh, he tried to find the words to comfort him although nothing could come to mind. Nobody was prepared for their father to die and then for his body to be treated as it was. "Our lords and men, even our ladies, are willing to die because the North has been wronged by the Iron Throne one too many times. They put their lives on the line to fight for what is right, and they accept that death may be on this war with us. They don't want you to worry whether they'll make it or not because they need _you_ to make it. You're right, you will lose yourself in some ways, and you will meet yourself in some ways too. We're growing up, Robb. We have to let the boys in us die."

"I know… I know." Burying his face in his hands, he shook his head. "Some days I… Some days I just want to go back home. I want to go back to Winterfell with us playing with our swords with Arya skipping lessons just to imitate us. I want to watch Bran climb the walls like he always did. I want Sansa singing her sweet songs and stitching. I want Rickon ripping and running up and down the halls with my mother chasing him. I want father meditating in the Godswoods with Ice. I just want all of that back."

What Robb wanted was a dream of time going back to years ago. It was a dream Jon understood but he didn't want to go back. He might've wanted people within that dream to be alive or to see them and be surrounded by them, but he didn't want to be his younger self again. He didn't want to be willfully ignorant and not be prepared for the world like he was back then. "You can't have that, Robb. You have to let that stay a dream."

"I know." Rubbing his face with his hand, he let out a much needed sigh and nodded his head as if to wake himself up from a much happier place than this war-torn reality they were in. "I have a responsibility as King and I have to see it through."

"And I am with you every step of the way." Seeing his brother smile didn't make him happy because there was nothing happy about that smile of his. It looked forced, almost as if he was trying to cheer Jon up than he was trying to cheer up himself. Robb, always the selfless person, was barely hanging onto the threads of himself.

"C'mon, put some clothes on, Snow." Tapping his hands against his legs, he stood to his feet. "Let's go meet the Martells for breakfast."

Robb waited outside for him so that he could change into a pair of clothes. He wished he could bathe again, the cold bath that was made for him last night rid his body of the high temperature from Dorne's weather. Once he was properly dressed, he turned to look at Ghost who rested in the corner of his room and decided to leave him there. He wasn't sure how the two of them were faring in this temperature but they were given ice baths time to time upon Oberyn's request. Even he must know that wolves didn't last long here. Hopefully Doran would give them an answer soon.

Once he opened the door of his room, he had seen Arianne with her slender arms wrapped around one of Robb's. What they were speaking about was unknown to him, but Robb seemed outright awkward under the sensual gaze she held for him. He eyed the two for a few minutes before loudly clearing his throat for them to notice him. Arianne reluctantly pulled away before taking a few steps forward, "I was hoping to speak with you, Jon Snow."

For some reason, Jon had a hard time believing that. It seemed like a whim, her sudden interest in him. "Is it something important?" He bothered to ask and she nodded her head. "Then what troubles you, Princess?"

"Not here." Her eyes then glanced towards Robb, "May I steal your brother for a moment? I won't take long, I promise."

Before Jon could protest, Robb gave her a smile and gave him a look that meant for him to go. "I don't. Hopefully I'll see you both soon." He eyed him in surprise, seeing the smile never leave Robb's face but instead become much more of a smirk. He was probably relieved to not be pulled in by Arianne's advances, he was probably have a hard time not being tempted and used him as a means to escape.

"Follow me."

His eyes kept roaming to the back of her head, watching her as she led him. They didn't talk, their conversations having expired minutes ago, and so all one could hear was the nearby ocean and the warm winds shaking through the trees. The birds were loud, chirping as if they been made silent for so long, and singing their high-pitched songs carefree. The sounds of Dorne were relaxing, which shouldn't have been to a Northerner. He was used to wailing winds, howling wolfs, and a quietness that was so still that your beating heart seemed rather loud. Arianne had soon opened a pair of oak doors and led them outside to a white-stoned path that finally gave them invitation to the palace's gardens.

"Why must we go so far just to talk?" He finally said, his eyes squinting due to the harsh brightness of the sun as its light began to bathe them, instantly heating his pale skin. Jon doubted he could ever get used to the constant presence of the sun.

"I require privacy. Our conversation cannot be heard by any ear." His curiosity grew, wondering just what did Arianne have to tell him that she didn't want to be heard by anyone else.

They were surrounded by a sea of flowers and in the center of it all was a large, white marbled fountain of three tiers. The smell of the flowers themselves were overwhelming, making his head feel light and almost dizzy since their fragrance must've been heightened in this Summer-like weather. Arianne soon slowly turned to him, arms behind her and her dark eyes giving him a look he couldn't fully understand. "Your brother, the King, is he promised to another?"

Part of him should've known that Robb was the reason for this. And here he thought he would be learning something that could be of use to him. "Yes, he is. He is promised to one of Lord Walder Frey's daughters."

Her lips lost their smile and instead turned into a line of disgust. "My father entertained him once for my hand. He never meant it, luckily, but the thought of being married to that old man that should've long since be ashes puts a rather sour taste in my mouth."

"I apologize for mentioning him." How could Doran even do such a thing? Giving Walder Frey a taste of a dream to be married to Arianne? He didn't deserve anymore wives, and he hardly needed more children. The amount of bastards and trueborns he has was enough to possibly make Freys take over Westeros through breeding alone. "But what I said is true."

"No wonder…" The disappoint soon faded, almost like she had gotten over it just quickly. He would've laughed if he wasn't so sure that it might offend her. "And what of you? Are you promised as well?"

"No." He gave an honest answer. "I am still a bastard, Princess."

"And in love." He became still, his eyes becoming big as he wondered just how had she known. The smile that spilled forth was a teasing one, almost like she had caught him in a trap. "A woman just knows. I've seen men in and out of love for many years; nothing is so new to me." It was as if she knew what he was about to ask, and so he found himself quiet and unsure what to say.

Jon never liked being figured out. He always tried to keep himself a wall of mystery because he didn't want to seem so vulnerable, but Arianne read him like was the first page of a book and she knew all the contents with just a few skims through the pages. She was too observant for his liking, and he wondered just what else did she figure out about him or any of the Northern and Riverlords.

"I'm a little bit disappointed that Lord Edmure didn't join you." Relieved that she changed the subject, he felt like he could rest a little easier now that she wasn't picking him apart. "I rather liked the idea of marrying him. I never seen his face, however, but his name has a good reputation."

"He is a good man, and I'm sure he would've been a good husband as well." Although Lord Edmure was a strong and confident fighter, he was a bit of a womanizer. Most unmarried men were, and so Jon was sure that if he settled down with the right person that he might change his ways. That didn't happen all the time, but the Trident lords tended to do right by their wives, or so he thought.

"I'll never know it." In some ways, she sounded rather bitter. She was three and twenty, and unmarried. Surely she was tired of spending her days in Dorne. Jon wasn't capable of reading her well, so what her intentions were now that he told her Robb wasn't able to be a suitor made him wonder why she even prolonged this conversation. What if she was helping her father decide?

His eyes then roamed towards a flower that caught his eye. It was a deep plum in color but on its left was the same flower that was a bright, icy blue and on its right was red one, hot in color like fire. His eyes observed them in wonder, seeing how on the flowers either side of the one in the middle seemed to be of the same kind. As he inched towards it, he bent his knees to further inspect it.

"Ah, are you interested in flowers?" Her voice was airy, showing her genuine inquisitiveness. "Many people enjoy these in particular, they're quite difficult flowers."

"Why is that?" His head slowly looked up at her as she pressed her hands to her knees, bent over as she looked at the flowers with hints of disdain but admiration. "And what are they called?"

"This is the Ice Hydrangea, and this is the Fire; the one between them both is the Ice and Fire Hydrangea." Her hand slowly reached out, petting the flower petals with the tips of her fingers. "We've brought these from Yi Ti, but they are troublesome things. They need lots of water and only grow in shrubs, and must be by others. They can't be alone, not ever."

Did Amara know of these kinds of hydrangeas? He remembered that she knew of them, going to see them in the Glass Gardens, but they hadn't bloomed yet or might've been different from these. She might like this one, the Fire and Ice Hydrangea, and he thought that maybe this would've been the best nameday present. He had no idea what else to give her for she hated dresses and didn't wear jewels much. Normal gifts one would buy to a lady or even a princess didn't apply to her since she forsaken all those things as a healer.

"I would like one. I want to give this to someone as a present." He wasn't going to yank the flower off the bush without permission. Would they even like someone to have them? They were probably expensive since they needed a lot of care. Would one die if one was tore away from the others? He was a fighter but now he he was having anxiety over some flowers.

"For the woman you're in love with?" Arianne's smile seemed to have sound because Jon could very well hear it in her voice. "Is she fond of flowers?"

He was half-tempted to not tell her anything, but he didn't seem the harm in it. What could Arianne do to Amara or himself? "She is." His answer was short and truth, that was all he was willing to give her.

"I'm not sure she'll very much like this as a gift, if I may give advice." Seeing as she knew more of the flowers than he did, he was willing to listen. His grey eyes pulled themselves away from the flowers to look up at Arianne, who was still staring at the hydrangeas.

"Why is that?

Arianne then let out a soft sigh, "In Westeros they mean silent devotion but in the east, they mean fickle-love and a changing heart. The people in Yi Ti hate these flowers, they say they change colors too often and show unloyalty."

Surprised at her knowledge of flowers and how he almost gave Amara flowers with such terrible meaning to her people, he found himself standing upright and acting as he never eyed the flowers at all. Would Amara be angry that he almost suggested them? Maybe he should never even speak of them to her. "I see. She definitely wouldn't like them then."

"Is she YiTish?" His eyes averted, unsure whether to answer her or not. "If she is, I know a few things that might be good presents. You were right to choose a flower as a gift, they think highly of them. The noble families crests are of flowers." It was a dream, but he was sure that Bataar was Amara's family name. If he mentioned it then he might as well told Arianne her entire name. Since she knew some things about Yi Ti, could she know about Amara's family? Part of him wanted to ask if her brother still lived and if he was well or how was Yi Ti dealing with the Jogos Nhai now days. "I would suggest the Cactus flower."

"Cactus… flower?" It didn't sound as pretty as Hydrangeas or other flowers, the few that he knew the names of at least. "Do they have a special meaning?"

She gave him a sly smile, her giggle childish and saccharine. "It means lust! You give them to a woman to tell them that you want to lay with her."

"I think we're done talking about flowers." He quickly marched away, his head hanging and his face as red as the camellias he passed by. He wasn't sure if Arianne was pulling his leg or maybe she was a human warg and caught a glimpse of those fevered thoughts he had this morning.

 **...**

Her feet were firmly planted on the cold wooden floor, leading her towards the window so that her eyes could see the splashes of rain on the glass along with the fog from the cold air. It felt so long since she last saw rain that Sansa almost forgot what it was like. When the skies were grey like this in Winterfell, it usually meant snow would fall instead of rain. The rain in Myr was falling in a slow, comforting tempo that was trying to lure her in a drowsy state, but her excitement of the sight of it completely kept her awake.

Her hands desperately pushed the window open as she sat on the windowseat, eyes staring around the outlying city with fascination. Hesitantly, she rolled back her sleeve and reached her hand out into the open air, letting her hand, wrist, and arm feel the taste of the drops of the cold rain. Her skin became covered in goose-pimples from the chill of the air and the rain, but she hadn't mind it since she felt like she was washing the heat of King's Landing away.

Shaking the rain water off her skin, she pulled her arm back towards her with her hand occasionally rubbed the water as if it were her scent oils until she felt like it would eventually dry away. If she was wearing her old dress, she would've wiped her arm with it but she was wearing a new one; a dress for Myr women. It was green with sleeves that ended just a few inches above her elbows, a v-line that was modest to her mother's standards, and slimmed down instead of puffing out from the waist below. It clung onto her not-so tightly since the dress seemed to be a perfect fit. It was truly fitting of her and the green of it reminded her of the plains that surrounded Winterfell.

Naran was the one who bought it for her. He shoved it towards her and told her "you might do nice in this" and left her after shutting the door of her room in the inn. Whether that was a compliment or because he was a boy and didn't care what a girl would wear, she didn't really know. Sansa found his behavior strange ever since she asked him about his sister. He didn't want to be bothered with her, almost as if he was afraid she would inquire about the woman again.

Speaking of him, she wondered what he was doing now. He was in a room next door to her, just a few steps away. Was she curious enough to go see him? She wasn't sure. The only thing that Sansa could be sure of was that his men were in front of her door, acting like guards. Naran had gave her freedom though, letting her wander as far as she liked, which helped her be able to explore the large inn as much as she wanted.

It was a large and beautiful. The walls were colors of cream, music always played downstairs, and lords and ladies would come and go, possibly to either stay the night or the week as well as venturing out to the town as they pleased. The ladies wore dresses made of fine material, but mostly silk that she learned was made from creatures called silkworms. It made her skin crawl at thought that something so icky could make them, seeing the dresses made her like them anyway in spite of how they were made.

As she opened the door of her room, she saw that nobody was standing there on guard as she surely thought they would be. Maybe they grew tired and left her for the day or maybe Naran had other things for them to do. Her eyes glanced right, down the hall and towards his door, and she made hesitant steps as she decidedly approached it. Her feet were quiet, not letting the floor creak beneath her, as she stood stopped until she was facing his room. Pressing her ear to the door, she didn't hear a sound from the other side. Was he even there? Did he leave?

Raising her hand to wrap it around the handle, Sansa wondered if it would be right to open the door. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, she pushed it open and was grateful it wasn't locked, but what she saw did surprise her. Naran was in his room yet he was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall with his eyes closed. He was asleep sitting up, with one knee pressed to one shoulder and his sword lying against his other. Why didn't he lie in a bed like a normal person?

Concerned as well as confused, she closed the door behind her and let herself in. He had to be cold since his clothes wore loose clothing even though the sleeves were long. The materials were too thin to keep him warm, so she decided to put the bed's blanket on him. It was the least she could do after she saved her from Joffrey's torment; she still dreamt about it at night along with Queen Cersei's cruel eyes and Lady's cries and corpse. As much as she wanted them to suffer before she left, she was just glad to be away.

Bunching the blankets up in her arms, she kept her steps quiet in order to not wake him. By the time she could wrap it around him, Sansa gaspedas she saw his eyes right in front of her and could feel the cold steel of the blade just an inch away from her neck. Her eyes were wide, her heart stammering, as she was sure he would've killed her then. Once he realized who she was, he sat back down and put his sword back to where it was. He acted as if nothing happened.

"Why are you in my room?"

How does someone just ask that outright after nearing killing someone? Sansa was still petrified after her neck nearly being sliced, and so the words couldn't come to her right away. Instead she let herself slowly descend to the floor with her mouth agape and eyes blinking back her shock. "You…" Her voice was barely audible as she tried to process all that happened, "You nearly… You nearly killed me!"

"I thought you were someone else." He shrugged, like he didn't care. Biting down on her lip, feeling infuriated by the almost deadly mistake he made, she threw the blanket at him with enough force to make him hit the back of his head against the wall. "Ow!"

"I tried to cover you so you wouldn't be cold since you're so close to the window! I wasn't trying to harm you!" Her voice found volume thanks to her anxiety and anger, now that she could finally fully comprehend the fact that her life could've been gone in such a split second. "And that is all you have to say to me?!"

"I told you." His hand was rubbing the back of his head as he fought to move the blanket out of his face, "I thought you were someone else. You don't just sneak yourself in someone's room, you're bound to get yourself killed like that." He didn't look nor sound apologetic, and her hand couldn't help but trace the skin of her neck that was nearly cut open. His blade was insanely sharp, like it would knick you from a single poke. She could still remember how he used them to kill those Lannister guards just to free her. It cut through them like it they were nothing, just soggy slabs of meat without bones. Her body shivered as she nearly imagined she could've been the same.

"You're not even sorry." Every time she was sure she and Naran could get along, something else came in their way. "You could've killed me and you don't even care about it!"

Naran didn't say anything once she said that, but simply watched her as she found the strength to get herself on her feet. As she turned to walk away, she felt a hand grabbing onto her wrist, loose enough for her to rip her arm away but tight enough to mean he had something to say. Her blues looked down to glare at him, holding a frozen fury that only served to amuse him.

"You're easy to anger. It almost kills the fun..." Pulling her hand away at his jest, she didn't have the patience nor the mind to deal with him. Sansa nearly gave him a chance and he just blew it with that. She could hear him scrambling to his feet, running and then blocking the door with his hands raised to keep her from being able to leave. "All right!" With a groan, he combed his fingers through his hair in what looked to be frustration, "I'm sorry. It was never my intention to harm or scare you."

Why was it so hard for him to apologize? She couldn't help but stare at him in wonder, trying to figure out why he seemed reluctant to even say sorry. Seeing as she might not get an answer to that, Sansa decided to ask another question that plagued her. "Why don't you sleep on the bed? Why must you sleep on the floor? How is that even comfortable?"

"I just don't like sleeping in a bed by myself." His answer came swiftly, his head tilted with his eyes glossing with something roguish. "Are you satisfied, my lady?"

It shouldn't have flustered her, how he said that.

"I-I…" She was truly at a loss for words. Shaking her head, she tried to appear much more calm and resolute. The last time a boy had her conscious shaky and her heart aflutter was a monster; a cruel boy who only enjoyed seeing her hurt and in pain, and being the one to have her father killed. Sansa told herself every night now that she wouldn't be used nor abuse again. "You just suddenly stop liking beds?"

"For someone to always be angry with me, you're always curious to know more of me." He closed the gap between them, lowering his head enough so that it was hovering above her shoulder. "I would think you're quite interested in me, Lady Sansa."

Her hands shoved themselves forward and pushed him. He was strong enough that he only tumbled back just by two steps, just to give her a clear view of him laughing. Her face was red and hot, almost like she had been standing out in the sun all day. It certainly felt like it since his eyes were just as vibrant as it. "Why would I?!"

Naran's lips spilled out a smirk, shrugging his shoulders. "I was only teasing you. No need to get so riled up."

She eyed him harshly for a minute long before rolling her Tully blues, "I'm going back to my room."

He grabbed her wrist again and it was not loose at all. It was a firm grip, not enough to hurt her but not enough to give her a fight if she chose to pull away from him. "Don't."

"And why shouldn't I?" It was obvious he didn't have an answer or maybe he didn't know how to exactly answer her. He looked hesitant, almost afraid to say what he was about to say. "What is that you want?"

"Today is the last day we'll be traveling together." His hand had let go of her, his fingers brushing against her skin until she felt it become cold from the lack of warmth. It made sense for that to have happened because she had felt herself grow cold from the news. Should she be happy? Sad? She knew very well that she should be happy because now she didn't have to worry about where they'll go to next. Only the stupid girl in her felt sad because she wondered if that meant Naran would leave her since his job would be done. As annoying as he was, Sansa knew that she would miss him. Not greatly, but subtlety; like how one feels when they travel with someone. He was starting to feel normal and now he would be gone. She would be alone and she suddenly found that more frightening than it was scary.

"What do you mean by—" She didn't have the chance to finish her sentence because the door to his room had quietly opened. His men, whom she wondered where they had gone, filled in the room. Tömör had given Naran a nod as if to confirm something, and he returned it in kind. Who came into the room next had tears prickling her eyes and without a second, falling forth. She never would've believed that her father was still alive and standing upright and without need of a cane. It felt a dream that one would want when they were delirious with fever, but it was true. He was standing right there with his smile that she had missed.

"Father!" Every inch of her, not just her voice, cried it out and she came running until she crashed into him with her arms tightly wounding themselves around him. He braced for her, returning her embrace with his head raining kissing atop of her own. Her body was trembling as she cried, her head shaking as if she couldn't believe that her father was still alive and in her arms. Sansa wanted to feel guilty, for hating him and not wanting to return to Winterfell back when he obviously knew that King's Landing wasn't as she thought it to be; that Joffrey and the Queen were nothing like she thought them to be.

She could feel herself ready to faint from how happy and how lightheaded she felt from the shock of it all, but she was too scared that if her eyes closed that all of it would be gone again. Her father's large and rough hand rubbed her back, smoothing out all the mixture of happiness and pain that seemed to ooze out of her pores with shushes to calm her out of her crying. "I thought they killed you. They said they did! They said you were dead and they sent Robb a piece of you with Ice!"

"It wasn't true, Sansa." He lowered himself so that she could see those grey eyes of her that she missed, his hands resting and rubbing at her shoulders to ease her crying. "The Queen and Joffrey lied. They had no other way of proving to Robb that I was dead. They needed me gone in order to keep their secrets, but this boy saved me." He slowly looked to Naran, Sansa following his gaze.

She wanted to be angry at him since he knew her father was alive but he hadn't said a word. Her anger, however, was more overwhelmed by the happiness that he saved him and reunited them. She was so happy that she ran towards him and let her arms encircle and tighten around his neck. His hands hovered over her, almost like he was taken aback by her sudden embrace. Her tear-stained face laid its chin on his shoulder, embracing him and lessening the distance between them to show her complete gratitude.

It was a while before she could feel him returning her hug, his hand patting at her back rather awkwardly. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, but it was the only way to keep him safe. Your King is looking for him without doubt, but he'll have the trouble figuring it out." Sansa could've kissed him then, that's how happy she was, but she pulled away from him with her wrists wiping away the tears that kept spilling.

"Thank you." Her voice was shaky from her crying, and she hoped that he could hear how happy and grateful she truly was. "For everything."

He gave her his first real smile; a broad one that showed his pearly, white teeth and his eyes crinkled at the corners that mirrored the smile on his lips. Instantly reminded her of Amara for some reason, she had the same smile. Sansa wasn't sure if it was because their eyes were shaped the same that she had saw such a strong resemblance. Even before she could question it, Naran spoke about another matter. "It is high time you know why I saved him, isn't it?"

Now she could get some of the answers that had been nagging at her. Sansa nodded rather fiercely, "You may enter now." Naran said towards the door, making her immediately wonder just who was outside. A man came first with hair of blue and a short-haired beard. Sansa was startled by the oceanic colored hair, wondering how someone had something like that until she thought it must've been dyed.

Coming from behind him was a much younger boy, possibly the same age as Robb. He sauntered his way in, smiling at Naran before settling his eyes on her. A gasp nearly left her due to how beautiful he was, with his eyes matching the blue of his hair. She seemed confused as to who they were and why they're deemed as important to the reason why her father was saved until Naran spoke when Tömör shut the door closed.

"These are my friends, Griff and Young Griff, but you may know them better as Lord Jon Connington and the true heir of the Iron Throne, Prince Aegon Targaryen."

 **...**

The smell of the Trident was starting to become thinner and thinner, like Riverrun was giving her a second chance to come back and wait. If there was one thing about Amara, it was when she decided something that she did it with her entire being without turning back. She only left some days ago with Catelyn's advice about being careful venturing back to Winterfell did resound in her head as if she said them a day ago. Amara figured that she wouldn't take Kingsroad or any other routes where bandit sightings were frequent. The last thing she needed was another bandit incident after all this time.

At the moment, she was in Seagard for a rest and because she wanted to see the ocean. Amara had missed the waters, even though this wasn't the Jade sea; the stretch of blue had warmed her heart regardless. Her eyes had widened some when she noticed a ship was coming to the harbor and she swore she had seen Jason Mallister and his son Patrek. As she moved forward, pulling her horse's reins along, she came to see that her eyes were not deceiving her.

Robb had sent him to Pyke instead of Theon, taking the Ironborn with him to Dorne instead. Amara ran towards the ship, wondering just how things went. Jason was a kind lord, even though she rarely had time to speak with him to know him well. She even recalled Lady Catelyn calling him handsome, which Amara agreed to. He was old compared to her but he aged finely. His voice was very baritone, making it seem as he was singing as he spoke. It was pleasant to listen to and humorous to watch older women swoon with every word that left him. "Lord Mall—" The words halted on her lips in a instant.

Her stomach had suddenly churned, making her instantly feel ill as something sinister seemed to hang in the air. Superstitions were hardly a thing she believed in yet the wind that came lingered on too long and gave her a slow chill that crept up her spine like spiderlegs, making it tingle uncomfortably and want to scratch violently at her skin. There was something wrong or something bound to be, and whatever it was, it frightened her.

Her head slowly turned, her eyes searching for the source of her discomfort. Everything seemed rather normal and not out of the ordinary yet the feeling wouldn't shake itself away, not even by a hair. Her hands curled tightly around the reins, wondering if she had just been imagining all of this. She blamed it on the fact that she took off too fast on horseback with an empty stomach after parting with Lady Catelyn and that maybe it was her anxiety of Jon's absence and her longing to see her son all fighting together. There were many things she could blame this on, no matter that none of them seemed to fit right in how she felt just now.

With a shake of her head, she swallowed the lump in her throat and kept moving. What was the point in her acting like this if nothing was there to cause it? She wanted to greet Jason Mallister, and that's what she'll continue to do and so she ambled her way forward, trying to calm herself before she approached him. He was most likely getting himself ready to go back to Riverrun with whatever news Balon Greyjoy had given him, and she doubted that the man was going to give Robb his men.

With House words called "We Do Not Sow", she doubted someone as prideful and stubborn would ally themselves with a House that defeated them in a war his eldest sons died in and his only remaining son taken as a hostage. Although Lord Stark was kind and looked after Theon as if he were his own son, making Theon call him a second-father, he was still a hostage regardless. It was another reason why she couldn't let him go because if he were to hold any hate in his heart, it was bound to grow in full bloom going back to his homelands. Robb just didn't see that Theon's feelings wasn't just her main concern and she doubted if she explained it that way that he would've believed her. She had to hurt him to get through to him.

"Lord Mallister!" She called out his name again, and this time the man's piercing blues had turned to meet her own. His brows raised in confusion until they lowered, and a little smile was present on his lips. "I see you traveled safely, I'm glad. I won't take much of your time since I travel to Winterfell."

Jason seemed more than shocked at that, and it was only natural. They didn't find a girl barely eight and ten suitable to be travelling on her own. Another lecture was the last thing she wanted to hear and she hoped her face explained that much, it must've seeing how hesitant he was with what he was about to say for a minute. "What brings you there? Alone no less." Reading between the line, she was sure that he was asking her what was so important about going there and risking her life by traveling on these dangerous roads on her own. He tried to be slick, but she knew better.

"I miss my son." Her reply was honest, seeing no reason to really lie about it. "And I am curious to how the Stark boys are doing, I want to see them well with my own eyes."

The laugh that left him was husky and fill with a tinge of mirth. She was sure he was more surprised than he was entertained, "You must see it for yourself to claim it true then? Brazen for a girl so young." There was some truth and that, she felt rather embarrassed now and played with the ends of her hair. Was she truly brazen? Was that a bad thing to be?

"I hardly know of a shame, improper as it is." Now she felt like a child, her head lowering as she felt so small. Amara truly never felt ashamed for the things she did; guilty yes, and regretful, but never enough to be embarrassed. In the moment she would be so sure of her decision, and when it wrong she was more focused on the aftermath than rather it was embarrassing or not. "I can only assume that you've returned rather empty handed."

"It is true." His eyes closed briefly as he let out a rather tired sigh, "The man is still harboring a grudge and wants to be King in his own right so damn badly. Robb will never join houses with Greyjoy, not even his own son would be enough to change his mind."

How sad, she thought. Did Balon even ask about Theon or did Jason have to resort to mentioning his son to him? For Theon's sake, she hoped it was the first. The second, however, seemed to be most likely true. How can a man choose his pride over his own son? Why did he have children if he didn't care for them? Were they just breeded to be heirs and nothing else? Did Theon ever once feel a father's love for his son?

Her eyes slowly looked over to the outstretched ocean for one could see some of the Iron Islands from this distance alone. Pyke and its castle were close, close enough for you to see its impenetrable yet old stronghold. "That man hardly had a time to be King, and he wants to rule his islands again. He'll just be another enemy we'll have to take on." He sounded tired and she could understand why. Lord Tywin and King Joffrey weren't the only enemies, there was the possibility of Lord Stannis of becoming an enemy and anyone else that wanted to be King in their own right. Balon, as she figured, must still harbor a grudge and that meant that Robb would meet him in battle as well.

"The war already feels long enough." Letting the sea air tickle her nose, she took a deep inhale before exhaling out the pent up anxiety. "I wish it would end soon."

"One can only hope, healer." She gave him a halfhearted smile and he returned it with a small one of his own. The both of them knew this war was not going to end any time soon and it was best to to accept that fact. "Are you going to stay in Seagard for the night? I will help pay for a room since my son and I plan to stay here before riding for Riverrun."

Thankful for his kindness, she bowed her head respectfully. "Pleased as I am to know you'd help, I have my own coins to spend. I couldn't possibly spend yours, my lord."

"Nonsense! You might need all the coin you have on the road, I have plenty to spare." Lord Mallister was truly kind but she couldn't accept it. She didn't want to feel that he should be obligated to help her and she didn't like the idea of anyone spending coin on her when it could be used for other things. Possibly more important things, like Sellswords if it should ever come to that. Robb was against buying them, but if they didn't have the numbers they need then just might have to resort to that. Honor was starting to strain thin when the number of men needed were smaller than what was needed to take on Lord Tywin.

She shook her head once again, standing firm with her decision. "I can't, my lord. Please. I'm only staying for the night and leaving by light on the morrow, there'd be no use."

Jason watched her for a few minutes, trying to see if there be a moment where Amara would give in to his act of kindness. She was sure it didn't feel right for him to not help out someone that allied with him, woman or not. Her smile reassured him that she would be fine and he seemed to give in. Even if he didn't, she would've been read to argue him until the moon reigned and the sun rose again.

So they parted right there with her bowing deeply as he walked away, leaving her by herself again. She decided to stay at a much cheaper inn since she noticed the one he was sauntering his way to was more costly. As she looked at her horse, who seemed rather distressed by being near the ocean, she gently rubbed the back of its neck to calm it before she felt a presence behind her.

"Excuse me, my lady, you seem to have dropped this."

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she kept her head low as she slowly turned around without curious eyes to first take sight of an open hand. In their palm was her black pouch made to carry coins, and she wondered if she dropped it by accident. It was possible that when she climbed off her horse that it might've happened and she was sure that if he were a thief, he wouldn't have had a mind to return it. Lifting it from his hand, she slowly raised her eyes to meet him to give her her thanks but once she stared into his face, the words couldn't seem to leave her mouth.

She dropped her bag of coins, knowingly this time, as she stood there with her bones frozen like hard ice. It felt next to impossible for her to even move, especially when her mind was screaming wildly for her to run. It was as if she was nailed down in the very spot she stood in with her eyes big as saucer-sized plates and her throat feeling like it was constricting and set afire, with hot flames licking at the walls and burning every single syllable and vowel she wanted to speak.

There was a list of many people, of many faces, that Amara never wanted to see again. Most of them were dead, but not him, even though she had hoped for him to be. Out of all those people, she had wished that he was the one that was dead. And yet here he was, standing before her, breathing with life he didn't even deserve. A person like him shouldn't roam this world.

Her legs wouldn't work, her body too petrified to even attempt to make a step. If she did, she was sure she would collapse.

His eyes appraised her, his hand slowly raising to grab at her chin and tilt it upward so that he could get a closer inspection of her face. "Ah, yes, I remember those eyes." The sound of his voice made her want to cry, of anger than fear. Her eyes were prickling like the salty droplets ready to pour was made of fire. "It was years ago, but I remember; I couldn't possibly forget them." His voice was hot and tried to eat away at her skin, "You've grown so much since I saw you last, I didn't even recognize you. No longer a child but a woman-grown now." It took all the strength she could muster to slap his hand away, wanting to rid the feel of his hands on her with by washing it away with the ocean water. "Do you remember what you told me?"

Amara could never forget. She could still feel the fire in her that she had felt all those years ago when she last saw him, "The next time my eyes lay on you, I'll kill you." And she truly wanted to breathe life into that promise.

* * *

 **A/N** : Aegon is hereeeee! That ending though. I wonder if anyone could guess who it is.


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** / slams fists ) I want to write an Amara fighting scene so bad but it is not the right time for it. I can't wait until I can honestly. I need more girls fighting. I just want more fighting. Lots of fighting.

 **I.C.2014** : That... would've been an insane twist. Like, it really would've been such a pow twist. I'm mad I didn't think of that, but at the same time I doubt Amara could ever let him get away with that. The Jogos Nhai don't really go that far from their lands either, so I would have tried to come up for an explanation for that and I have none whatsoever.

 **Lovinurbuks** : I had to bring Aegon. I literally adore him in the books and I wish he was on the show. Hopefully he will be one day.

* * *

It was loud; the sounds of the Dornish. The beating of the drums was steady, loud, unwavering with a rhythm that was easy to follow but powerful all at once. The lyrics that the singers sang were hard to understand since the Dornish accent was heavy, and it was possibly not even in Common Tongue once he really thought about it. There was so much to take in, in the Coliseum alone that Jon had a hard time only paying attention to a single thing.

He had only heard and read of places having fighting pits like this. In Dorne, it wasn't to do death any longer like it was in places overseas, but to show their might without causing death since as Prince Doran explained; death was saved for a enemy and not a countrymen. Doran also told them that before he gave them warriors, he would show them how strong Dorne was by showing them the strength of their best fighters. It was apparently a tradition for them to show off the capabilities of what their people could do, and Jon and Robb had no insecurities nor complaints about it. They were sure that Dorne was capable, they wouldn't have asked for an alliance if they thought otherwise.

As they sat in the Coliseum stands, the sun only proved just how relentless it could possibly be. Already having trouble adjusting to the weather, he felt more comfortable than the days prior as he had forced himself to wear the thin, Dornish clothing that would only be worn for the duration of their stay. Jon was never much a fan of the color yellow or white… More like he wasn't fan of most colors that weren't dark or black itself, but he would rather wear it than let his black doublet soak in the sun's rays and burn away at him. He felt much cooler now, even with sunlight still beaming on his pale skin.

Out of sudden curiosity, his eyes scanned the entirety of the stands and at the people. The excitement they bear wasn't the jovial kind, but the tight fists in the air with loud and unshakable Dornish pride. It reminded him of Westeros in such a way. He hadn't realized how much he missed it until he felt the heat of Dorne. Jon missed the North the most, wanting to freeze rather than sweat. His eyes then glanced over towards his brother, who was rather glued to the current battle that was taking place. Jon turned his attention back to it as well, seeing as everyone seemed rather excited about it.

Two men were facing off, locked in battle, and were quite the fearsome sword handlers. It was hard for one to find an opening and the other was keyed into defense. It was almost like they were too much in-sync to really strike one another or land a blow to victory. They eventually finished with one of them winning, and people applauded and whistled at them for the fight. They bowed to both Prince Doran and Robb before leaving the arena, wiping sweat off their brows and laughing together with arms resting on each other's shoulders. It was true camaraderie with them and not competition in the slightest. That was a more qualifying trait in a warrior than sheer power alone, at least that's what Jon thought.

You could find anyone with strength and skill in battle, but it was hard to find someone loyal and caring for the people they fought with and the king/lord they served. Loyalty was such a fragile thing that could be broken by the slightest thing. 30,000 men sounded good in battle, but one man with the power to betray you was much more scarier. He hoped that none of their ladies or lords would; hope was such a childish thing yet he kept it. It was was gotten him far up until this point.

The announcer soon called about the next pair fighters and Jon was taken off guard completely by the sight of them. The first to come out was a tall, muscled man with his arms bare due to the torn tunic that once had sleeves. His arms alone were thick and rippled to show how much strength he had to hold the giant, spiked ball with a chain he was dragging against the floor. His hair was a wavy, combed back and burnt orange-ish red with black streaks going through them. His eyes black and a long, red beard that had grown down to his chest. He had been as tall as the mountain, just more well-built and the women and even men seemed to love him for they swooned at the mere sight of him. His rough expression hadn't changed with their whistles and sighs, he looked as if he was too focused on the battle to come.

The next that came was a rather short and masked figure. They had to be at least half of their opponent size and built rather lean. Jon felt sorry for them already. The mask they were was pure amethyst in color, sleek and shiny under the dazzling sun. On the centre of the mask was a bright, white carved star, reminding Jon of the North star he would always gaze on. The mask kept their face rightfully hidden; you couldn't even see a glimpse of their eyes or the shape of their mouth. It was peculiar, honestly, because why did this person choose to hide themselves? He didn't have a clue, but it sure made things interesting.

With a wave of the Sunspear banner, the battle was on. The tall man known as the "Silent Tiger" swung the chain, lifting that giant spiked mace at the end of it as if it weighed nothing at all. He circled the unnamed opponent cautiously, eyes narrowed and his lips in a tight frown. Just one hit of that thing was enough to crush someone's skull, which made Jon think that the fight was unfair.

Robb's eyes never left, not even for a second. He didn't even budge when he was spoken to or called upon. His icy eyes were transfixed as if nothing was just or more interesting than this fight. The shorter fighter seemed to be doing well for themselves however, the way they glided across the floor and flipped away from any attacks that could've mortally wounded them was astounding.

The masked fighter had a spear in their hands and it wasn't the regular sort of spear. It was a long, purple-dyed, wooden pole with a curve-singled edge that reminded him of a glaive. The design of it was littered with some sort of design he couldn't really see.

"Little Fighter" as Jon named them in order to give them a name, spun the weapon with a twirl of their fingers, letting it spin on their open palm before wrapping their hand tightly around it. They held it up, facing it towards Silent Tiger.

With an horizontal spin with his right hand, Silent Tiger criss-crossed the ball in front of him, building up the inertia just to transfer it to his right as he spun it to his side vertically. With a mighty kick, the ball was sent towards the Little Fighter, who luckily back-flipped in time to be missed by the attack. The spiked ball made a small crater on the area it hit from the sheer force while the masked fighter landed just a few inches behind it out of what Jon considered was pure luck.

To Jon's right was Oberyn, who was smiling down at the battle with a look that made one wonder if he knew the two fighting on the battle floor. His eyes were heavily glued on the dagger-weapon fighter, almost like he was egging them on to win through his mind's eye. "Quite the fighter, aren't they? They've managed to evade every single attack. You must be wondering, just how can they fight with just their fists, aren't you? I assure you that you'll see what they'll amount to in due time."

It was scary to him how Oberyn instantly knew what Jon was thinking. It must've been obvious since most of the Northern and Riverlords shared the same skeptical expression as he did. Not Robb though, he didn't look as if he chosen who the clear winner will be. Maybe he thought the same as Oberyn, which was why he was just so curious. "Who are they?" Robb inquired, "The masked one, we haven't been given their name."

"You will know," Picking up his golden goblet, the prince took a swig of his Dornish wine, "when the battle is done, Your Grace."

Robb's brows knitted together, just as confused as Jon was but could halt his impatience by willpower. Jon eyed Oberyn for a several minutes before looking down at the battle to see in time to see Little Fighter wrapping their hand around the haft of their spear with every ounce of strength. Shooting the weapon forward, it slipped through the air and straight towards Silent Tiger, whose hands snapped out to catch it before Little Fighter could pull it back.

Two were at a battle for the spear, Silent Tiger wanted to make them weaponless no doubt. It would've worked in his favor that way, and Little Fighter would surely be in death's grip should they not choose the next step correctly. Letting go of the spear, they backed away as Silent Tiger spun in a circle, swinging his mace in efforts to do a sweeping strike. The audience was on the edge of their seats, trying to see how one could fight themselves out of this one without having their entire side crushed by the weight and then stabbed by the spikes. Jon even found himself drawing closer, his eyes widening at the intensity of the fight.

It was swift, the way Little Fighter had jumped over the swinging chain and managed to land on their hands, lying flat in a push-up. They were balanced on their hands alone, which made everyone look and gasp in genuine shock. Sharply, the masked fighter moved their legs upward, across their body, and kicked their feet out before spreading their legs in v to secure their feet behind Silent Tiger's knees. They widened to spread his legs in what would soon become a split, lowering him to make it near full, and Silent Tiger hissed as his legs were becoming increasingly far apart.

When the pain became too much for Silent Tiger, the fighter had lifted themselves up by their upper body and did a series of rapid jabs with systematic purpose. Each jab knew what they were doing, quicker than eye, and moving as if they had a mind of their own. His grey eyes picked up that they had been aiming for specific spots, and neither light nor were they a show of pure strength.

Silent Tiger's hands lost grip of the chain and he fell backward, the masked fighter maneuvering themselves to straddle the giant man's waist in order for their feet and ankles wouldn't get crushed by his heavy fall. The larger man eyes were nearly bulged, dark eyes swimming with fury, as he glared at the masked fighter with sour defeat. There was not a single movement of his limbs, and he made no movement to stand or lift himself from the ground. Jon and Robb had no idea why people were screaming or applauding or why the fight was said to be over. Why couldn't Silent Tiger stand back up? How did the masked fighter win with such a move?

With a near perfect cartwheel for show, the masked fighter raised both their hands as they were showered with praise in their victory. Flowers were thrown towards them, gathering at their feet, and the Little Fighter began to pick up a few out of what looked to be grace. Jon immediately whipped his head towards Oberyn, waiting for a much needed explanation but Oberyn gave none, his smile ever present, and his hands clapping for the masked fighter.

The announcer came sauntering forth, Sunspear's banner in one hand while the other raised the masked fighter's hand with words declaring them winner. Robb, without a second's notice, stood up on his feet almost immediately. His lips formed a rather excited smile, his eyes glistening with curiosity. "May I?" His voice made the entire coliseum silent, all eyes on him as he raised his hand to ask for silence. "Fighter, may I please see your face or at least know of your name?" Oberyn glanced up at him, smiling still. Jon was beginning to grow frustrated, wondering why he had known nothing of what was going on. "Your fighting technique impresses me and leaves me curious to the point of frustration. Just what did you do to Silent Tiger?"

The crowd then turned their gazes away from the Wolf King and down towards the masked fighter, who stayed still while being question. Their hand raised to the back of their head, slowly untying the straps that held the mask together. Long brown hair had cascaded down their back and a fair-skinned girl with eyes a shocking purple had revealed themselves to them. It would be a lie to say that Jon wasn't shocked, and Robb was too with his mouth nearly hanging open. Maege Mormont had let out the loudest of cackles, and her eyes were surging with pride. Dacey wore a smirk herself, eyes twinkling in the same way of her mother's. Greatjon nearly choked on his turkey leg, too stunned to even breathe.

The people of Dorne were the only ones not surprised, obviously knowing who this fighter was from the very beginning. Arianne had given the young woman a wave to which the purple-eyed girl returned with a smile.

A sight to see, in and out of battle.

Taking a man half her size and then rendering him useless with just her fists alone. What a dangerous person, and someone worth having in your army if you knew what was good for yourself.

Bending the knee for Robb, she kept her head down in a show of respect before lifting her eyes as she spoke. "My name, Your Grace, is Dara from House Dayne of Starfall."

House Dayne was certainly known to the Starks. When they were just boys, their father told them of Ser Arthur Dayne, the deadliest man and heroic knight of the Mad King's kingsguard. Their father said nothing but praises about the man, even when he was nearly killed by Arthur's hand. Jon had once heard about his sister once, Ashara, but there was nothing but mindless rumors that didn't make sense to him when he was young.

"It is a pleasure to meet such a fighter as yourself, my lady." Inclining his head, Robb graced her with a smile that she had sweetly returned. She looked very dainty with the color of her eyes the shade of lavender. It was hard to believe that she did not look much fiercer like Lady Mormont or Dacey. She didn't have a fighter's look, but her skills said otherwise.

"It is an honor for me, Your Grace, to fight in your presence. I hope to join you in the Battlefield, to march against the Lannisters. If you will have me, Your Grace, I will die fighting with the spirit of Dorne for your cause and for my people."

Doran's expression was one of a proud father as was Oberyn's, who took a another sip of his wine as his free hand laced themselves with Ellaria's. Jon wondered just how close the Martells were with her to bare such looks.

Robb's eyes hadn't left for a minute, his eyes looked as if he was contemplating for a second before he pried his lips apart. "I would be more than gracious if you fought for me, my lady." Dara had raised herself to her feet, her smile as bright as the glowing sun. Surely she must've thought that Robb would decline if she had asked to fight alongside him without this match. Was that her whole plot? To prove herself? Jon suspected that since he knew for a fact if she came to Robb, dressed like a lady with such daintiness about her, he would've declined. She more than proved herself to a high degree. It was impossible to ignore her skills at this rate.

"And may I have my questioned answer? What did you do to Silent Tiger?" The Dayne girl combed her fingers through her hair, bearing a look that showed her uncertainty if she should tell him. "If I am overstepping my boundaries, you may say so."

"Oh no, Your Grace!" Jon rose a brow at her sudden shyness, almost like she felt incapable of answering such a question. "It isn't that, my king, but… I have a hard time trying to explain it, is all. All I can say is that the body has weakpoints and that I know of them."

It sounded vague, confusing at most. Jon's eyes slowly looked to his own body, wondering where such weakpoints were and if Dara could see them from where she stood. How did she discover Silent Tiger's? Had she watched him long enough or had she discovered it during their fight? Such a scary thing, her fighting style that is.

 **...**

It was still all shocking to her and she couldn't really wrap her mind around it all. Naran was friends with Aegon Targaryen, the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. The same Rhaegar that stole her aunt and caused such chaos, ultimately leading Westeros to Robert's Rebellion. Part of her didn't truly believe that he was who he claimed himself to be. His eyes didn't have the Targaryen purple, they looked to blue like his hair. He was still breathtakingly beautiful and made it hard for Sansa to even look him directly in the face. Since he laid eyes on her, Aegon gave her kind smiles whenever he caught her, and it would make her feel so small and shy when their eyes met.

She actively tried to avoid another meeting of their eyes as they sat at this round table with an explanation being given courtesy of her father. If there was anyone Sansa trusted, it was her father. She trusted him with her entire being. Before, she might've challenged him, but he had been right about so many things. Sansa hadn't realized he was right until she thought it was too late and she would not be repeating the same mistakes again. So if her father believed him to be Aegon, she knew that she might it well be truth. After all, he saw the small babe's gruesome body himself all those years ago.

Naran was sitting opposite of her, his large and bony hands wrapped around a teacup with a certain poise. His lips held no smile or frown, a neutral line, and his eyes were staring at the surface of the hot beverage. Sansa's mind was trying to put the pieces together. Just who was he truly to have such influence and connections, and even wealth that he had? Was he a foreign prince himself? That seemed more likely. The more she thought it, the more she thought it to be true.

Cupping her own cup, she was nearly tempted to down the whole thing so it warmth her bones from the frozen shock that they felt stiffened by. That would be unladylike and rather embarrassing, using tea to mimic a man downing a cup of ale. That would surely leave a bad impression if this "Young Griff" was surely Aegon Targaryen, rightful heir to the throne. Sansa could not appear so unmannered, even if she truly didn't care what he might've thought of her. She was thoroughly finished with impressing royalty.

With a sigh and anticipation, her Tully blues had gazed solely at her father. "Start from the beginning." She was ready now, having time to breathe and assess the situation. Since they felt her worthy of an explanation, it was best she didn't stretch it out until they got themselves in a mood of impatience.

"King Joffrey—" Before her father could truly begin, Jon Connington interrupted it. Her father looked none too pleased about it too, but he was a patient man. Sansa loved that about him, even when she did wish he took action.

"False King Joffrey." Jon Connington made clear, "He doesn't deserve to be named a king. He doesn't have a king's blood twice the time."

Although it was true, it didn't matter to Sansa. She was already aware that Joffrey was not a king, just a spoiled brat with a crown and his backside on one of the most uncomfortable yet intimidating chairs of all Westeros. Eddard eyed him for a second before closing his eyes, heaving out a tired sigh. "False King Joffrey, imprisoned me on the account of treason. He said I tried to take the Iron Throne when Robert—"

"The usurper pig." Connington interrupted again, unashamed as before.

"Jon," Aegon stepped in now, unimpressed by his mentor's actions and taking none too lightly. It was obvious how Jon felt about Former King Robert and the Lannisters. About all who were against the Targaryens. "Enough. Let the man explain to his daughter now." His eyes were sharp, showing just how annoyed he was. For a second, she thought she saw a twinge of violet before the blue had washed over them like something being swept away by the ocean. "Go on, Lord Stark. Forgive him, Lady Sansa.."

"Thank you, my prince." Ned said humbly as Sansa inclined her head in understanding. His eyes then turned to look back at his daughter, who gave him a small and understanding smile. Even though Sansa wanted to tell Jon to rightfully shut up, she was more polite than that. "Robert wanted me to be temporary Protector of the Realm until Joffrey was of age to be crowned. I wrote it down in Robert's will that the throne would go to his true heir since I knew that none of his children by Queen Cersei were his. They were Jaime's."

It was only but a rumor in the halls of the Red Keep that would get one killed if spoken. If her father spoke it truth than it truly was. She inwardly wanted to recoil to let herself be sickened by the incest of twins, but her dramatics weren't welcomed when there was so much more she needed to know.

"They tore the letter when presented, claimed it treason, and that I wanted the throne. I was thrown in the cells and you know that's when your brother marched for King's Landing." Sansa nodded knowingly, "While in my cell, Naran freed me and sent me here to Myr with false pretenses of going to Volantis in order to mislead any search for me." The redhead slowly looked away from her father and to Naran, who kept his eyes on his steaming cup of tea. "I was brought to Connington and Prince Aegon to help them reclaim the throne."

"But why you?" She asked, "Why did they decide it be you?"

"You'd have to ask Naran for the answer to that." Jon spoke with a huff, taking a sip of his tea out of apparent boredom. "I didn't want it to be him myself. It's all his fault my silver prince is dead, him and his pig of a Stag friend!"

"Rhaegar would still breathe life if he hadn't taken my sister." Eddard nearly snarled, baring his teeth like the direwolves of their House Sigil, "Your Silver Prince has a thousand lives on his corpse and all the fault belongs to him for that!" Sansa nearly jolted from the intensity of her father's voice. It didn't shock her when his fist slammed against the table, his voice was as hard as the ice that overtook a lake during the freezing weathers in the North. When it came to her aunt, her father had always gotten rather emotional, which is strange since her father rarely got into such a mood.

Jon had nothing to say about that, he just gave out another huff and a roll of his eyes. Aegon eyed him with a look of annoyance before turning his head to the bright-eyed boy, "Naran?" He gave him an expectant look, inclining his head. Aegon didn't seem offended by her own father's scorn for Rhaegar. Did he believe his father wrong when he ran off with her aunt? Maybe so. Maybe he was reasonable enough to know that his father and grandfather is the reason why the North still grieves.

"Who better to march for King's Landing than someone who already has the experience? Even if Lord Stark were too old for battle, he still is of sound mind to help us retake it. I also think it best if we allied with the King in the North, your son, Robb. It'd be the wisest decision. The Golden Comapny are great in number but not greater than the North's numbers that have been accumulating since he had joined rode to the Riverlands. Now ravens tell me he is allying with Dorne to gain himself 30,000 fighters."

"Dorne?" Both Aegon and Eddard seemed surprised by that, "Dorne chose to ally themselves with my son?"

Naran gave a sure nod, "He won them with The Mountain and Amory Lorch, he received them from Lord Tywin in trade for Jaime Lannister. If he promised them anything else, a raven hasn't told me word of that yet."

Aegon's eyes closed, looking extremely pained and furious all the same and had trouble expressing it properly. Sansa could not imagine his pain, the anger, he felt at the mere mention of their names. If there was anything to give her a sign that he was truly Aegon, it was the look of mad fury and sadness that he wore right then and there. He probably wanted their heads for themselves. He should've been the one to kill them, especially The Mountain, Sansa thought.

"How were you able to get yourself inside the Red Keep?" Sansa asked Naran, always curious of that since she first met him. With the Lannister guards flanked left and right, how did Naran get himself to the palace gardens and then again during her rescue?

His lips twitched upward, his eyes crinkled. "Lord Varys owed me and is for the Targaryen cause, so I was treated as a foreign guest. A trade with Yi Ti is a rich trade."

"Yi Ti?" She nearly gasped, "Are you one of the hundred princes?!"

He looked rather smug at her realization or maybe it was her excitement of the fact. He gave her a steady nod, "The Prince of Yin, Naran Baatar."

Sansa was halfway tempted to send a letter to Amara, to inform her that she met a YiTish prince. She was sure the healer missed her home and would be more than excited to hear Sansa discovery, wouldn't she? She thought to do it when she had the time to herself. For now, she was going to drink her tea and hear the story of how they would soon storm back to Westeros.

 **...**

The last time she had seen him, she was but a girl; three and ten. Her mind was in a fresh hell of an never-ending nightmare of her father's headless body and her almost husband lying on the floor, bleeding from the gaping wound she gave him. If it wasn't those things haunting her at the time, it was Naran's sleeping face that she had whispered goodbye to because she was too cowardly to say it with his eyes wide open. She was still a child and she was filled with self-loathing, wondering how could a person ruin their entire life in the span of of a week. Having paid that little bit of coin for her escape, she had heard tales of a man with one eye and lips of blue. Amara hadn't believed them, thinking of this person just a myth to scare the naive, until she met the man herself and saw the destruction he left as parting gifts to each place he decidedly chose to destroy.

It was in a small town by the Summer sea that had been burned down with children, women, and men crying and screaming before they were silenced by death did she see a man in the middle of the burning flames. She was three and ten, scared and crying because she grieved for these strangers that she had barely known a day. People she was nearly coming to know were dead before their time because he wanted to pillage and he wanted to rape and he wanted to kill. Euron was the worst kind of person, and Amara swore to never forget him. She told him, just a child and all, that if she ever laid eyes on him again that she would kill him. That's how enraged she was about what he done. What the mere sight of him had made her feel. He laughed at her and told her that he would be waiting for the day.

She indeed feared him, knowing what he was capable of, but she did not fear death as he might've thought. Death was so simple, so easy. Immediate. The only ending. Torture, however, was a long process and one that could break a person until they were only fragments or even a ghost of who they once were. Amara feared that more than she feared death and she knew full well that Euron was capable of it. He enjoyed to make people weakened by the day until they eventually begged and clung onto him for sweet mercy when they could take no more. Amara's pride refused to be broken, she refused to become like that.

If she had only gave in to Jason Mallister then she might've never seen Euron's face again. Now here he was, locked away in a cell on the ship like she was some sort criminal. He thought her weak and that's why she had no chains on her wrist. All she had was this black-ironed door stopping her from escaping, but it hadn't mattered. Escape was essentially futile right now. Amara suspected that she had been here for what seemed like two days now. The small lone window that gave her life and sight of the current time explained that to her. She was at least grateful about that in her condition.

The ship hadn't moved, she also knew that. Two days at Seagard seemed strange and almost comforting because she was close to land, close to an escape if she could obtain it. Why hadn't Euron sailed was beyond her, but she figured it was because he wasn't allowed at the Pyke. Why else would he stay from home? Why would he only dream of conquering it when it was right there? Balon and Euron must've had a very disastrous relationship and he was possibly banned. Who could blame Balon for that? Euron was not fair not kind, he was traitorous and violent. He liked to get in your head, make you feel weak and small. You couldn't trust a word he said yet it was best to remember it and take caution.

The metal door had opened, the sound of feet shuffling into the ship's cell and letting their footsteps resound in her ear while whistling their tune. It was Euron, she knew the song. It was familiar to her ears, and just the thought of one of the sweetest songs escaping out of the most sinister pair of blue lips made her blood curl:

 _"There was a boy, a well-beloved joy,_  
 _born of the salt and sea,_  
 _pure Iron-blood in thee._  
 _Fair maidens would cry, "please be mine"_  
 _but the boy of iron, would not_  
 _agree._  
 _Lived a maiden so coy, He loved her so,_  
 _yet his countenance would_  
 _not show._  
 _Fond and foolish was his mind, he said_  
 _"the fair maiden would love him soon in kind"_  
 _Gone by seven long years,_  
 _and his love could not be._  
 _Shed a tear once or twice for her to see,_  
 _The fair maiden thought little of me."_

By the time his song came to an end, his lone eye was looking down at her as he held a tray in his hand. Slowly, his knees bent so that he level with her through the iron gates. His blue lips were bestowing her eyes one of the most sinister of smiles she had ever seen, and his only visible eye making her skin crawl. The only weapon on her person was tucked away in her boot, but she'd be foolish to unsheathe it now and plunge into his neck like she kept dreaming to do. There were too many men on this ship and although he would be dead, she would be also before she could inhale the sea air again.

"You must eat, my dear." Laying the tray of what looked to be a bowl of broth on the floor, picked up the spoon by the nearest edge and stirred it. Amara eyed him rather bitterly since she hadn't eaten in the past two days. She didn't trust anything he was giving her, but she knew that if she wanted the strength to fight that she would have to eat soon. Just not now.

"My lord," Her voice came out soft, much more softer than she intended, "please do not trouble yourself with my health. Why not you take this bowl to eat? I'm sure the Cook would be so kind that someone took a liking to it."

His head tilted back, a bark of a laughter filling the air. She almost dared to roll her eyes but she kept her facade seated nicely. "You will be fun." He lifted the bowl in his hand, bringing the rim of it to his lips. Part of her wanted to say "nevermind" and drink the broth. It was tempting, it smelled good, she knew that was just the hunger making her think that way. All her rational thinking was teetering and she could almost see it, see him noticing her near slip. He drunk the bowl of broth, his adam's apple bobbing as he did. How she wanted to smack her fist into it.

Euron smacked his lips, eyes smiling at how enjoyable the broth must've been. His hand lowered the bowl down mannerly as he took a napkin from his person and dabbed his lips. He definitely seemed to be highborn. He had some manners… shockingly.

"You're only hurting yourself." His voice was in a low, mocking tone; almost sing-song. "You'll sooner die of starvation if you keep this proud act. Surely, you don't want to die here; alone, in the dark, in a rusty ole' cell in a ship like this, do you? No, you don't. You should do your best to get on my good side."

With a snort, her eyebrows raised. "You, my lord, have a good side? Why, I wouldn't have believed it until you told me so."

"I know, I know. Euron Greyjoy, Crow's Eyes, or some name they call me, is a scary man who has reaved all over the known world and the bones of Valyria." Not once had she discovered Euron's surname, and to say she was shock would be of such a huge understatement. The song alone was a clue but they were near the Pyke, so the song was learnable but he was truly Ironborn; a Greyjoy. If she had paid closer attention, she might've seen a hint of resemblance between him and Theon. Theon had mischievous, boyish features while Euron was a beastly man with—which she could admit rather begrudgingly—masculine charming features that screamed strongly from his chiseled jaw to the straight bridge of his nose..

That was how he lured some women into his devious traps.

Amara appeared to be half-listening in appearance, but she was truly taking note of all that he said. If he was truly a Greyjoy then that had meant that he was in someway related to Theon. Did Theon even know him? He never once mentioned him in her presence. In fact, she couldn't recall ever walking in on him talking much about his family. All she had known was that he had a father and two dead brothers. Did he know his mother? Did he have a sister or two? Uncles? Amara didn't know any of that. What could such information give her at the time or even anyway? Euron seemed like the type to kill his own family for gain. A kinslayer.

 _'I'd rather drown and be swept by the arms of a kraken than touch the soil of the Iron Islands.'_ She thought, and she was damned halfway ready to say it but that would only incite him to get violent. The reason she feared that if he took her there then she would have no way of escaping. They controlled a great many of fleets and Euron would always keep his eye on her. If he liked her well enough or hated her thrice as much, he might make her a salt wife. She had at least learned about that from Theon. Amara dared not to be anyone's salt wife, let alone Euron's. The torture would last an entire lifetime.

Picking up a cup, Amara's brows knitted together at the strange aroma that came from it. It was not wine she's ever known and it definitely wasn't water either, so what was it? "I suppose that last part is true—" His eye noticed her sudden ( and disgusted ) expression, the corner of his lips rising. "Quite the comely face you made, this is Shade of the Evening, if you be so curious." Her eyes snapped to look at him, her frown deepening. It was such a strange smell and it made her empty stomach want to curl. "Would you like some?"

"No, but thank you for the offer." Amara couldn't have rejected him quick enough. The nausea was coming in, in slow waves, almost like how the ocean slowly kisses the shoreline before going back again. Her right hand was slowly moving towards her mouth, wanting to clamp over it, but she fought against it. The sheen of perspiration on her brow was gathering as she slightly hunched, trying to keep herself composed. The fact that her stomach was empty and then the repulsive smell of Shade of the Evening was making her sick. Amara forced herself to sit up right, letting her hand fall back into her lap, and when the times that something would trickle up her throat, she swallowed it down. Euron was observing her, musing at how she was fighting for composure. Knowing that he had noticed this, she found her hands clenching up and gathering up the fabric of her dress in order to keep her anger anchored.

"Weak stomach? I guess it is true that not everyone cares for Shade of the Evening; it has a strange smell and an even stranger taste." His tongue glossed over his lips, picking up any drop of the blue wine and making them glisten. Amara kept her eyes away, feeling nauseated to a moderate degree. "I came to personally visit you myself in efforts to be a kind and gracious host. When you have a pretty girl on your ship, you must accommodate her, but I believe you are making this quite difficult for me."

Swallowing, hard, she lifted her shoulders up and let them fall back down. Her smile was nearly strained and the sincerity was almost void, "I apologize, my lord. It was never my intention to give you distress. I am well-kept, and happy; as happy as any girl can be in a situation like this. Should you give me more time, I will be the greatest guest you have ever had, of that I promise you."

The sarcasm was too obvious now. The smile she gave him only reinforced it and she was sure that he was irritated by it and kept that fact well hidden. The key was to appear unbothered and he would be unable to get inside her head and find any sort of weakness. It was also to the fact that Amara was just too prideful to let him feel like he won.

"How could a guest that so obviously plans my death be a great one?" Her jaw had set, "At this very moment, you want to kill me, don't you?" He already knew the answer to that. He wouldn't be satisfied until she spoke or at least hauled to spit at him ( something she thought about repeatedly ). He wanted her to fight and give him reason to make her lose hope of any sort. Amara's eyes slowly looked to her right, gazing at the small window and acting as if he wasn't even there. That there was something better to give her attention to than him. And that, Euron didn't like.

Slipping his hand through the square of the iron gate, his hands wrung around her neck tightly. His fingers dug themselves deeper into her neck, forcing her to choke from the constriction. His nails were sinking unbearably into her skin, they would leave cuts, of that she was sure. "Don't look away from me, girl. I find you ignoring me truly rude, my great guest."

Her right eye had winced, her teeth gritting, but her arms laid at her sides like they had no life in them. She would not resist him, she wouldn't give him that. "Forgive me," It was a struggle to speak, and she found that she was only making it harder for her to breathe. "...that was...never my intention..."

There was nothing in her voice, not even a single trace of malice despite how strongly she felt it for him. Her tone was leveled, calm as still waters, and the look in her eyes were like a swamp; you could see your reflection on the surface but what lies deep beneath couldn't be seen unless you dived in. Euron hated that, she could see how his eyes shook in his anger and his hand squeezed her tight. Her triumphant smile was inward, she couldn't do it with the lack of air she was unable to obtain.

Euron threw her back when he decided to let go. Her gasp for air was loud enough for him to hear, she had to quickly refill her lungs that nearly felt empty from what felt like an eternity of strangulation. She was sure she was going to have a bruise on her neck, but that didn't matter. Breathing was higher on than list than a mere bruise that would heal itself in due time. Eventually, she pushed herself to stand onto her feet, even go as far as to groom herself like she hadn't nearly died.

She almost felt content about him not aiming to wring her neck again. The only thing stopping her from feeling that way was that Euron eyed her as if he had unfinished business, "I have half a mind to see how well you do in your attempts to kill me." She listened as she rubbed her sore neck with light strokes of her hand, her eyes took interest at the cell floor than at his face. "You won't, of course. I think I'd enjoy it more to watch how long it takes for you to break before I take back what's rightfully mine."

"You cannot go back, can you?" If she appeared interested, she surmised she could get him to ease himself from inflicting her harm. Amara knew that gaining a man's trust that you once threatened wasn't an easy thing, but it was the smartest thing to do as an obvious hostage.

His eyes slowly glanced at her, making him have a rather thoughtful look. He was probably asking himself why she seemed to ask or bothered to care. She didn't seem to care about her life, so why would she care about the reason he wanted the Pyke? He was desperately wanting to know her ulterior motive. Euron was smart, Amara knew that at least other than his cruelty. Outwitting him would be hard, possibly undoable ,but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. Jason Mallister might've been able. If only she had listened to him.

"I know what you're doing." Her eyes went back to focus on him, wondering if he really did read her mind. Amara was almost willing to pray to the Maiden-Made-of-Light that he hadn't known Jason. In fact, she hoped that he left. If Euron knew he was there, he might just kill the lord out of spite. "But it won't work." His hand gripped her chin, forcing her to turn her head to face him. Out of sheer willpower, she looked him in the eye. "Will you give yourself hope for help? You think anyone will save you now? You think someone would risk their life for a lowborn girl?"

He was right. Nobody would do that. Nobody knew her name but they would take one glance at her and say she was without worth or even a lump sum of coin. They wouldn't seek what they would get out of saving her, risking their lives for her, since she didn't look worth it. She wouldn't even persuade them that she was the Head Physician of Robb Stark's army, and she had trouble thinking that Robb would pay a ransom to save her since he was too hot-tempered and would rescue her without the help of some gold-loving fool; she didn't want to risk himself, especially not for her. She also didn't want Jon coming to her rescue out of fear that he could die. He might've taken down the Kingslayer, but his luck wasn't always going to be there.

Now that she thought about it, Jon would have no idea where she had gone. He was still all the way in Dorne, not even knowing that she planned to go to Winterfell. Lady Catelyn wasn't in Riverrun to even tell Robb that she left. Nobody would have a single clue as to what happened to her. They might just assume she was killed along the way since everyone knew how dangerous it was to travel alone. Never listening; now she had to pay the price.

"I don't beg." Amara's voice was quiet, he nearly had to strain his voice to listen. "I will not kneel to _anyone_ for help."

Euron's lips twisted into a smirk, a titter spilling past his lips. "You grow bolder by the instant, don't you? It should truly be fun."

* * *

 **A/N** : I don't see a lot of Euron in things. He's an interesting villain and did take over the Iron Islands and the North, so I don't see why he's overlooked a lot. Anywho, he's here and here to cause trouble.

I'm half tempted to write a fic with an OC of Ashara Dayne's daughter x Robb. It all happened when I created Dara in this chapter, and just the overall feeling I have about being so mean to Robb in this story kind of. Lol. Dara wasn't made with the intention to be a love interest ( but she could be ) I wanted a devoted Dornish fighter since I doubt Oberyn would be so willing to let his sand babies fight in a war and he would convince them to protect Doran/Arianne/Ellaria/Dorne. I hope Dara would have Brianne's devotion for Renly, and because I'm a major lover of warrior-lord devotion/relationships. It doesn't have to be a romantic thing for someone to fight so fiercely for someone. I'm such a sucker for that bond.

Oh, and a poll up on my profile on who you guys would like Robb to be paired with because I am _so_ indecisive about this. Robb's happiness is super important. I trust you guys will want what is best for him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Wait, is this...? An early chapter. In fact, it is. Don't count on me ever doing this again, but I'm going to be busy the next couple of weeks so I thought I would put this out ahead of time. Just in case I might not be able to release another one for a long while.

Don't forget to vote in the poll! I'm not surprised who is in the lead through, but who is coming in second kinda left me shocked! Since this is an AU, I'm not following the timeline exactly. Since I'm changing things, some events will happen before they should and some will not happen at all.

 **Xenocanaan** : Whaaaat? How did you guess? I thought nobody would think of him.

 **Minstorai** : Glad your excited! I like Euron as a character more than Ramsay, and I think he gets the backseat a lot to him. Since I helped Theon, she has to suffer by a Greyjoy hands someway and I like Asha/Yara to appear. Well, Victarion is said to be a stupid brute by George R.R. Martin, so if he doesn't care for him I guess the fandom doesn't either. Lol.

* * *

Her eyes pried themselves open slowly, blurrily taking in what looked to be a cabin. The feel of a ship rocking against the ocean waters came to her in seconds, alerting her that she was still out at sea; still very much on this loathing, blood-stained ship. It seemed to be moving through, sailing, possibly away from Seagard. Her body forced itself to sit up and she could feel the lack of strength in her body take over her all at once. Amara wanted nothing more to lay down again, take in the comfort of this bed that she was in, but then her mind rang with several alarms. If she wasn't in her cell and in fact in a cabin, she was more than likely in Euron's quarters. With that realization, her eyes snapped all the way open, and the blaring headache meant nothing at all.

Her hands patted the bed, making sure that she was indeed in one. The panic of it all was making her breath labor as she eventually stilled. Her eyes looked down slowly, almost afraid to find that she might find herself naked. There was no ache between her legs, which she assumed would've been apparent had he had his way with her. Knowing that she was only in a shift was still disturbing and it nearly made her eyes prickle with fury-bedded tears.

"You're awake." Her body stiffened then, her hands gripping tightly to the blankets that she had balled up in her hands while blinking away her tears that only pooled and not fallen. Her gaze found him, following up his body to look at his eye and she couldn't control all the rage she was feeling once his blue eye met hers. Her hands were trembling with anger and her hoarse throat felt strong enough to let out a scream if she wanted it, but as soon as she divided her lips, he spoke again making her close them instantly. "You've been unconscious for four nights." His hands were fiddling with something, she couldn't really see as much since her eyes still had a veil of blur over them. "That just won't do."

The sudden weight on the bed was prevalent near her legs, telling her that he had sat down at her side. She pulled the blankets to her nearly naked form, wanting to shield herself from his sight. Her vision was slowly coming to a clear, and she could see that he was playing with his dagger in his hands. "I haven't touched you. Believe me, I was tempted but I can't have you spoiled. It would ruin my plans."

"Why am I here?"

It was hard to speak. She was desperate need of water, mostly tea. It would be warm enough and with honey and a peppermint leaf, it would assuage the soreness. She doubted tea would be here and Euron as well his men wouldn't be able to make it no less. Even if they could, Amara knew that wouldn't be so kind to make it for her. If you asked him for anything, he would surely want something in return. "I've had you bathed and force fed. You don't trust me when you're awake, so you trust any hand that feeds you while you're starve and asleep." His hand slowly reached out to her and she inched back, not wanting him to touch a single hair on her head or a spot of her skin. Before Amara's stubborness was out of her pride, and now she could feel that it was the fear of what she had no idea happened the past four nights.

Euron upturned his brow, snorting upon the rejection. He pulled his hand back as if he hadn't cared or more like he would let it slide for now. There was but so many times you could say no to Euron, Amara realized. "This is much comfier than the cell, isn't it? A bed is better than the cold, hard ship floor. You slept like a babe; not a stir nor a sound. I rather enjoyed watching you."

Her eyes squeezed tight as the waves of disgust that came over. Just the mere thought of him looming over her as she slept was purely horrifying, "I would like to go back to my cell."

"No." He effortlessly denied her request, "I can't trust you by yourself. If I take you back, you won't eat and that just won't do. I don't like going about things by the half; if I say I need you unspoiled and healthy, I shall have you unspoiled and healthy."

"Why…" Clearing her throat, she tried her best to not wince at the sudden pain from doing so, "Why do you need me?"

Euron continued to play with his dagger, his hand tapping against the black, leather sheath. His eye stared at it for long before flicking its focus at her. "Do you know what makes a man happy?" He didn't leave the question hanging long enough to let her think it'd be proper to answer. Instead he brought himself forward, bringing his face inches towards hers as his whole presence towered over her. If she flinched or moved back then he'd feel he had power and that was the last thing she wanted. He already took enough of her pride, she had to keep hanging onto the rest of it. "A pretty wife."

The Greyjoy barked in laughter at her sudden horrified expression, eyes squinting in high spirits as he found her absolute fear and disgust the most humorous of things. "Yes, you won't be an iron-wife but a salt one. Whether you'll be mine or Victarion's is something I have yet to decide on." Victarion Greyjoy? Amara never heard of him and she feared meeting another Greyjoy at this rate. Were they all smug and cruel? None of them kind? None of them not willing to take what didn't belong to them? "My brother falls in love rather easily; lad just can't help himself when his eyes lay across a pretty face. Defiant you are, but you won't be so with him, not when you know what he can do. Want to know what happened to his third salt-wife?"

Amara hadn't given him an answer but she suspected he was going to tell her anyway. Her whole body was felt a sudden cold shiver as Euron's fingertips pressed themselves against her jaw in a light touch, slowly tracing the line of it with an unusual softness and making her cringe from the inside out. The healer nearly wanted to rip off the skin, thinking it tainted by his touch. "Beautiful thing she was. So beautiful with the goldenest of curls and greenest of eyes, I was enamored with her as soon as I laid eyes on her. I thought, 'Why should my brother have such a pretty salt-wife? He can't do her right, the stupid brute.' So I whispered sweet, sweet words in her ears and laid her down and filled her belly with my seed."

His hand slithered from her jaw, turning his hand so that the back of his fingers caressed themselves down her neck and so that his fingers could trace her collarbone. This sudden interest in touching her was strange, and she couldn't fathom what the reason behind it was. "Victarion was enraged; like a whirlpool, like a kraken ripped the sea to swallow everything. He wanted to kill me so bad. You should've seen the look in his eyes when he found her out to be with child that wasn't his. He was bloody mad. He wanted to be a kinslayer."

Wandering down the v-line of her shift towards her breasts, his hands hovered over her with a hesitance that seemed entirely unlike him. The temptation to touch her was there, Amara could see it in the way his blue eye began to grow dark, nearing blue of Shade of the Evening. It was coated with the lust she saw in the eyes of men in brothels, familiar but never liking that the object of his desire was her. A sigh of relief nearly escaped her as he let his hand slips away from her and pressed down onto the bed. He instead brought his lips to her ear and spoke in a much gentler voice, "He fisted her face to death. The pretty girl looked nothing like she once did and her hair was blotched, tangled with her blood, face caved in from the pounding that his fists brought. He cried while killing her, proving he really did love her; I nearly felt sorry for what I did until I realized I was freed of a child. He then threw her out in the sea and gave her to crabs. They ate nearly everything of her, even those squashed green eyes I liked."

Once he pulled away, allowing her eyes see his face again, she tightened her jaws as her eyes were feeling the heat of the tears she nearly shed out of her anger. That woman didn't deserve it, whether she was kind or not, whether she liked Euron or was raped by him, she didn't deserve it. "When he sees you, he'll be much more obedient and happy. I want my brother's happiness more than anything because it works in my favor. He likes a submissive girl, one that can't tell him no." His hands forced her lips apart, pulling at the pink muscle that was her tongue by its tip and unsheathed his jagged dagger, inching it dangerously towards her tongue. Amara hadn't blinked nor moved, knowing that he would've liked to seen her fight to give him reason to go through with it. She was scared, she could admit that, but she was not going to let it show to him. "I should slice off that tricksy tongue of yours, but you speak so nicely. I like it and he might too, just about every man likes a wailing woman in the bedchambers."

The choice wasn't in her hands. If it were then what would've been the better choice? To convince him ( as well as herself ) to be his salt-wife instead or be Victarion's? At least she had an idea of how to work herself around Euron, but Victarion? She hadn't met him to get a feel of him. Who knows, he might just be easier to control, and she might be able to convince him to fight Euron. He might've needed a push, a reason, for someone to fan the fire of his desire within him to be king. Then he would give her liberties and she could use that kindness for her own freedom. It all required to make him love her though and she was sure she couldn't do that while being a virgin throughout.

It was a matter of seconds before he let go of her tongue before giving it a pinch. She pulled it back in her mouth, wetting it with the little saliva she could make due to the dryness of her mouth. The thought of almost being without it made her stomach clench in fright. How lucky she was that this was only part of his mind games than him actually being sadistic enough to do it. Composing herself, she tried to keep her voice appealing instead of wobbly, she tried to make herself look bleak. Her head was low, her eyes to peeking at him through her lashes. Euron might not know pity, so it might not work, but if he thought her to be being chipped away then it might work in her favor. "And what if…" She purposely stopped herself, eyes shaky, "what if I don't make him happy? He'll throw me to the sea and won't obey you."

Euron noticed the sudden change, watching to see any hint of it being an act. Maybe it was a good thing she watched Ros at work, to get a feel of how to use a man. She was never good at it, she was just good at pretending to listen and to seeming interested, but to make them do your bidding? Ros was excellent at that. "If I decide it then you will." There was no room for argument in his voice as he placed his dagger back in its sheath, giving her room to breathe without it in her sight. "You'll make him blithe. You'll wet his cock with your cunt and your mouth until he thinks you shit stars. You will please him, I'll see to that if I make the decision for you be to be his wife." Grasping for her neck, her eye right eye squinted at the sudden press of his thumb against the center of her throat. It didn't work or maybe he was trying to force himself to not fall for it? She couldn't read him, and the action seemed to spontaneous. "Otherwise it won't matter what he wants to do with you, you'll be mine and I'll put an end to you. Do you hear me?"

Perhaps the scariest thing about Euron was the way he spoke so calmly. Voice still like pure silver, honeyed with lies and threats that bled like a snake's venom, and yet he never raised his voice to another note. He was so soft in speech, making you fear just how it would be if he were truly incensed with you. " _I said_ , do you hear me?"

"I hear you." She replied, voice toneless. Amara had gotten so used to nearly being strangled by him that she couldn't find herself caring if he did it again. He wouldn't kill her, she reasoned. He had too much need of her.

"I'm glad we've come to an understanding." His hand relaxed its grip, loosening from her neck and sliding into her hair, giving it a soft comb. If she had been foolish, she might've thought him affectionate, but he only did it to leave her confused. He thought if he showed kindness in some minutes and threats in others that she'd would think it best to be more obedient. Amara did fear him, but not enough to be a yes-girl even in her mind; not even enough to not plot her way out of this. Her mind was steady gearing on ways to free herself from this situation. "You know, I've never learned your name."

"Amara, my lord." Her answer was said nearly through gritted teeth, lips a crescent that made him mirror it.

"Pretty name." A thoughtful look came across his face, puzzling her. "Though I have to wonder, why someone would name you after a flower that never dies? Is that why you're so stubborn? Do you think yourself immortal?" His words left her stunned, wondering how he came across to know about the Amaranth flower. Amara knew him to be smart, but for him to know the language of flowers was odd. It was more than just odd. It didn't even seem right coming from him.

She didn't continue the conversation, letting the flow of it end here in the middle of her shock. Amara didn't want to act too interested about him, she would've much rather been silent but he required her to speak minutes ago and she got the answer to her question. Instead, she laid herself down back down, letting her hair comb itself out of his fingers before lying down atop of the blankets as it followed her. She moved to her side, shielding herself from him with her back and she hoped that he wouldn't bother her again. She nearly prayed in hopes that he would just leave her be.

He let out a snort, the bed creaking as the weight of him disappeared from it. The healer almost felt comforted by the fact, but she would never be comfortable as long as she was still his hostage.

 **...**

Autumn's air was crisp, filling his lungs as they were aboard the ship back to Saltpans and to the Riverlands. Dorne gave them 30,000 men and a fleet along with them. It wasn't a large one but a good size once they got their fleet combined with the Northern and River ones. With the numbers, they should be enough to fight a good battle at sea if it ever had to come to that. Everything about this trip and back was giving Jon some sort boost of hope that they could truly win this war. He had doubts, like any other person, but now he felt free of them by a large margin. What he and Robb were about to accomplish was something that people told stories about and they would have ballads about them too. Leaving for war as boys but ending it as men, and making the North great and proud as it once was. Nevermind the South who ass sits on its Iron Throne, they would finally be on their own; not married to dragons or being ruled by a prick made of incest. The North was its own power and not one to be tampered with.

They would be heading straight for Golden Tooth when they rested in Rivverun, gathering the remainder of their men there with the Dorne numbers they acquired. Jon could finally see Amara again too, hoping that she had read his letter and received his early gift. It took him a while but he settled for a YiTish ornament of a heather flower to put in her hair, something that Arianne thought she might like. She never told him what a heather meant but urged him to buy it and give it to Amara after he called it pretty. Part of him thought it had some very perverse meaning like the cactus flower, but seeing as she didn't laugh or tease him about it, it might've meant something else. Arianne, childish in nature, became easier to talk to during their time in Dorne, even if it meant hearing about her plots to seduce Robb.

He walked down to the Captain's cabin to join Robb and the other lords as they decided to go over their plans for Golden Tooth. Since Oberyn, Dara Dayne, and a few other lords and ladies were new, they had no idea of how they planned to take the Westerlands. It wouldn't be that long to explain, seeing how perceptive Oberyn was and attentive Dara was herself, he was sure they would get quick to the plans in no time. Who knows, they might come up with their own strategic plans to put in good use. Jon also wanted to ask Robb to send some people to Winterfell to keep it tightly guarded. With the way Jason Mallister's letter told them that Balon declared himself King of the Isles and the North, it was dangerous to leave Winterfell and the other North castle's with a weak defense. The last they needed was something to happen to the boys back at home.

As soon as he opened the door, he heard Robb talking with his fingers placed on the large table-map. He moved the Stark piece on Golden Tooth as he gave his battle plan. "What we need is Lannisport. We'll go to Golden Tooth and discover the fastest way there. Lannisport will the biggest thing we take, we'll be able to stop Tywin from gaining any supplies, cutting him off completely. No ships will go back or forth to Casterly Rock without our permission. We'll have it completely garrisoned."

"That's a future plan," Oberyn pinched the hair on his chin, rubbing the prickly strands together as his eyes stayed glued to the map. "Suppose we find our route to the Westerlands, will we be meeting a Lannister head first before we claim a stronghold?"

"Possibly, I heard that Stafford Lannister has been raising an army there." Robb explained to him, "The men, from what ravens sent told me, are inexperienced and hardly worth what the Lannister spent coin on. They are there just to block the road, not strong enough to defeat us. I figure they hope to tire me out and make me low on supplies to make me turn back is what they're aiming for since they are so close to Lannisport. It is only three day rides away from them."

"That would be the the wiser." Oberyn nodded, understanding the tactic. "For them, at least, if that were in their favor."

Jon had watched Dara Dayne, who stood beside Oberyn, dressed in chainmail and purple armor than the light and airy clothes she wore in the coliseum when he named her Little Fighter. She looked much like warrior with a face etched in an expression to prepare for the upcoming battle and her hair tied in a ponytail with her eyes focusing on the entirety of the Westeros map before her. Dacey Mormont was to her left, looking esteemed as she always did, and even gave Dara quick lessons on what they had done prior to gaining an alliance with Dorne. It seemed Dacey was more than happy about another female company other than her own fighters and her mother.

As the conversations continued, Jon folded his arms as he listened to the advice of Lord Karstark on the best approach of the Westerlands and to draw Tywin away from Harrenhal. Even after their trip to Dorne, he hadn't left, and it left them wondering what he planned to do next. What would he do about Lord Renly who was surely going to move with his 100,000? Was he not worried about Renly as much as he was worried about them?

Dara, shyly, rose her hand to gather their attention. Her voice was surprisingly small, "Excuse me, might I add something about our plan of Lannisport, Your Grace and my lords?"

Jon rose a brow, curious to what she had to say. Robb held the same expression before giving her a nod, "Go on."

"If we are to take Lannisport, Your Grace, I think there are several things we should have to do once we conquer it." Her voice was a little shaky, showing how nervous she was. It wasn't an everyday occasion where a woman was allowed go give her advice during a battle plan that wasn't Lady Maege. She swallowed thickly, pulling at the chainmail at her neck. "Uhm, what I mean to say is that, we must take hostage of the City Council when we do."

"What for?" Greatjon asked with his head in a curious tilt, "Why not just kill them?"

"It would make our king seem like a savage!" Her voice rose amidst her passion, and she appeared flustered by it seconds afterwards. "My apologies, Lord Umber, I didn't mean to raise my voice." Clearing her throat, she combed away the stray lock of her hair. "What I mean to say is, we must make King Robb look good to the people. They will obey him if they feel that he won't bring them harm. He also must not look too weak because a dangerous few might rebel, but if he shows them how kind and fair he is along with his strength, it won't be as many."

He could see her point, and he even found it solid enough. Feeling more confident than before, Dara's voice finally became loud enough for them to not strain themselves to hear as she continued. "So the council should be held hostage; all overseers should be in irons and cells so we keep everything silent as no ships will leave the harbors and give Lord Tywin messages or supplies; he'll be completely cut off by his greatest limb."

His brother stood with his arms crossed, soaking in her words. He put them in consideration and before Jon could encourage to take her advice, he already had his mind set to something. "And what of the smallfolk?"

Her violet eyes looked down at the map as she fiddled with her fingers, "Curfews and patrols will be a must, no doubt. If you would have me, I don't mind arranging or leading patrol groups or even just giving a small share in decisions regarding them. They will be needed to make sure none of them give out decisions or devise riots and hazing."

It was easy to say that most of the people were impressed. Jon smiled as Robb rubbed his auburn stubble of a beard, giving her a nod. "I was thinking just that, my lady. If you wish to take the task, I will allow you to prepare groups fit for hours of the day and the night for patrol when the time comes. I trust you will make sure the best men are for the job."

"Yes, Your Grace." In attempts to hold back her smile, she had sunk her teeth down her bottom lip. It was much too obvious that she was overjoyed that her plan was aligned with the king's thinking. Jon nearly wanted to laugh, almost imagining if this was how Amara would be if she butted herself in the matters of war. She only did so when she was made to be around, especially when Lady Stark required her presence. Other than that, she only gave her full attention to the injured as if she had no care for what they did. The last thing she was vehement to put her opinion on was Theon.

Part of him was grateful about her argument because he began to wonder if Theon would've truly felt the need to side with his father in becoming heir of the "King of the Isles and the North" as Balon proclaimed himself to be. Would Theon have betrayed them? Robb might've not thought so, but Jon could see it. Theon liked to do things for his own gain most if not all the time. If he wanted, he could go to the Pyke right now and fight his Uncle Victarion for the throne of the Iron Islands. Whether he wanted to or not, Jon didn't care. As long as the North wasn't touched.

"I think we have nearly everything planned." Robb laid his hands down on the table, using it as something to lean on. "The next meeting we'll have is at Golden Tooth. Our plans for Lannisport are solid but since it's not in our sight and what happens before we reach it, we might have to alter our plans. This council meeting is over, you all may go."

Many of the lords assembled started to leave the cabin, the only people staying behind were himself and Robb since Oberyn wrapped his arm around Dara and Dacey's shoulders, talking to them about whatever was resting on his mind. Jon just hoped he wasn't looking for their company in bed, he didn't know just how strong Dacey was in her own right. That would be amusing fight though; the She-Bear heir vs. the Red Viper.

"I've seen you have become quite fond of Princess Arianne during our stay in Dorne." Jon whipped his head toward his brother, who was pouring a measure full of wine. He smiled as he talked, only giving Jon reason to believe that he was only teasing him as per usual. Robb playful nature last appearance was back when they just marched out of Winterfell. Jon was a bit glad that he could be his old self sometimes, "Do you fancy her?" Pouring a second cup, Robb offered him the first one. Jon took it, seeing as he would have need of it if Robb wanted to pry.

"No." He replied before taking a mouthful of what he discovered was the Dornish drink. It was the strongwine; the one that reminded him of blood from its color but it was the right kind of sweet. Not overpowering nor dull, just somewhere in the middle. Jon's tolerance for liquor had grown since the night of King Robert's feast in Winterfell. He never wanted to embarrass himself like that again, so he learned how to drink more than a cup or two without acting like a bumbling idiot. "Princess Arianne is entirely interested in you, my king brother. You should've heard her schemes."

Robb halted his actions, the rim of the cup touching his bottom lip as his icy eyes narrowed slightly. "And here I thought that came to an end when she spent her time with you." Robb didn't sound disappointed, maybe he was relieved. Arianne was skilled in the art of seduction and he was sure Robb possibly was holding on the last leg of his rope whenever he was alone with her. Neither one of them had the time to bed a woman, but Robb was the one who would be getting married. Jon starved himself for his own moral compass, and he was finding himself growing weaker in keeping that resolve.

"You did mention she would be a good queen." Taking the first swig of the wine, he could feel the burn as the beverage was tickling down his throat with the welcoming the spread of warmth blossoming in his chest and stomach. The drink was almost as intense as Dorne's sun. "But I see you're going to keep your promise to Walder Frey."

"What other choice do I have?" Jon lowered his head some, unsure of what advice to give. A good king keeps his promises but Jon didn't want his brother unhappy. It seems everyone was unhappy, and was it worth to bring more unhappiness around? Yet this was the way of the world; unhappiness was more common than happiness. It was something they had to live with and accept, you can't just have what you want all the time. He told Robb that before, and he knew he had to stick by it. "I received a letter from my mother." Jon's head raised up at that, curious of what Lady Stark told him. Robb's eyes slowly peered over at him, his look rather troubling. "She says Amara left for Winterfell the same time she departed. Did she send you a letter beforehand?"

The news did a number of things to him, but mostly it shocked him. "No, I haven't received anything." This was his first time hearing this, and he wondered why Amara hadn't told him. Why had she not send him a raven telling him this? "She should be there by now unless the cold is giving her a hard time. How many men are with her?"

"She left by herself."

Jon's eyes widened at that, "What?!" His hand tightly gripped his cup of wine when he truly wanted to drop it. He halfway wanted to throw in the spike of his frustration and the creeping sensation of fear that snaked his way through him.

Robb let out a sigh, taking another gulp of wine. He seemed irritated himself about this, but he was keeping his calm demeanor as he usually did. Amara had the ability to make him quick in anger yet he didn't seem as vulnerable to it now, "My mother said she told her to wait until we returned or take a few men with her but she refused. She says she's desperate to see Austin, Bran, and Rickon."

In the midst of his anger, Jon felt guilty. He knew how much she missed Austin, it was written all over her face and in the way she moved. Her eyes were always glazed with a look of forlorn and she would constantly gaze in the direction of Winterfell half the time from her window or even outside. Other times, she looked ready to cry just from speaking about him or recalling a memory of him. Jon knew firsthand that Amara felt guilty for leaving him in the first place. It was part of the main reasons why Jon didn't want her following them to war in the first place; for her own safety and for her to stay with Austin, but she was too bull-headed to listen to him before and now she was putting herself in danger's reach without thought.

"Has anyone told Ser Rodrik to be on the lookout for her?"

He was relieved in a instant by Robb's nod, "My mother did. If she isn't there by another week, we'll need to send a search party. I also need to be speak with Lord Bolton about the way Ramsay has been acting. I fear he is going to do something far worse if left to do as he pleases."

Jon heard of him even before the war. It was bastards like Ramsay that made people look at any bastard with disdain; not only were they a stain to their families honor, but some of them were savage-like, and making everyone eye them the same. Maybe it was because Jon was raised in Winterfell under his father that he turned out so different. Lord Bolton left Ramsay with his mother, who had no strength to control him.

Just the mere thought that Ramsay could find Amara, alone, was enough to unsettle him. His hands kept pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to turn off any horrid thoughts that suddenly came into mind should she be captured. He wanted to scream about how she could be so reckless as to travel alone in a war torn Westeros. She was smarter than that, he knew she was smarter than that, and yet she was so blinded by her maternal instincts that she might've put herself in the hands of the likes of Ramsay Snow.

He forced himself to sit by the nearby chair, putting his cup of wine on the small table next to him so that he didn't drop it all so he can bury face in his hands. Nothing was beginning to feel right, right now that he heard this news. What if all the constant dreams and the nagging feeling in the back of his head meant something? What if meant she was in danger or even worse? Part of him blamed himself for following Robb to Dorne. Robb could've went on his own, he handled everything well, and he didn't need much of his help. If he had gave in to Amara, who didn't even want him to leave in the first place, then he would know where she was. He might've even gone with her to Winterfell with the protection he wanted to suggest for Winterfell. There was so many what-if's popping in his head that was starting to feel a dull ache take itself over.

"She'll be fine." Not even coming from Robb could that comfort him. Her life was in danger and here he was in a ship, unable to do anything about it. He felt useless and restless. Like he was ready to jump off board and swim his way to land to find her. It didn't make sense but the blood boiling in his body was half-tempted to make him do it. "Amara has been traveling by herself for years, I'm sure she is well-equipped in taking care of herself." Robb didn't even sound like he believed himself. Well-equipped? Did he forget how if it wasn't for them, she would've been taken by those bandits? If it weren't for them, she might not even be alive right now.

"There's something wrong." Dragging his hands across his face, he winced at the headache that was start to throb like a heartbeat in the center of his forehead. Instead of thinking of the worst, he thought it would be smarter to think of the route she used. "If she wanted to get there faster and safer, she would've gone to Seagard first."

"If she took a horse then she might be riding straight for Winterfell with a stop to Seagard for rest." Downing the rest of his wine, Robb wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Any wine left on his lips was sure to be gone when he drew them in while he thought, "You'll receive a letter, I'm sure she wouldn't leave you to worry about her." Jon rose his head, slowly, with his eyes moving up to look at his brother. "I know you have feelings for her. Did you think I would never notice?" The corner of his lips lifted minimally, making a small smile appear. This was all too overwhelming. "You two are never without each other, I'm sure this is the longest time you spent away from her because of me. I'm well aware that you love her."

What was he supposed to do? Jon supposed that lying wouldn't be right, but this wasn't how he wanted Robb to know about it. Did he make it so painfully obvious to him now or if he knew before now, how long did he know? "I had feelings for her myself. I don't think I loved her, but it was something. I guess that's why I act a bit bitter with her because I knew I wasn't who she wanted. I owe her an apology for my harshness and I also give you my blessings, Jon Stark; my brother. My blood."

With a few steps, Robb went to a drawer and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. He then turned and handed it to Jon, who slowly took it with his eyes narrowed in confusion and still reeling from shock. "That parchment is your legitimization. You are no longer a Snow, no bastard brother of mine. You are my true brother as well my heir."

His fingers felt heavy a steel as he unrolled the parchment, letting his eyes feast upon the words that he so desperately wanted all his life. It was the boy in him that wanted to cry, but his smile was much too overwhelming to let him shed any tears. Robb gripped the back of his neck lightly, shaking him before pressing his head to Jon's own with a smile. Their brotherly bond always had it ups and downs, but nothing had solidified it more than this moment. Jon couldn't feel truly happy however. He got what he always wanted yet he could possibly lose the thing he was willing to give everything up for in the process.

 **...**

The seawater soaked through her boots, chilling her feet whilst making the leathers squeak and slosh with every step she took. Amara shivered from her feet up as she stood on the rocky shore of the Pyke, her black robes waving in the strong wind that came and gone. The only joy she could have in this setting was being able to keep inhaling the scent of the salt, ocean waters that rolled along the sea breeze, filling her senses with just a touch of home in spite of it being a different sea. It was better than staying on the Silence, but was the Pyke any better? Not at all. Escaping a ship was more likely, but escaping a castle that had its own island as well as several others around it? She was truly trapped and bound to become Victarion or either Euron's salt-wife.

Euron urged her forward, pushing the small of her back as she her arms shifted uncomfortably in the ropes he had her tied in. He thought her too weak for iron, and so he settled for ropes. Did he think she would try to run? She indeed thought about it. Her blade could cut through them nicely, she thought, yet now wasn't the time. She had to wait for opportunities and not be so reckless as much as she wanted to be. "Move." His voice held authority in spite of the smile he wore. He seemed so happy to be home, and she wondered why it had taken them a fortnight just to get here. They had been so close, so what would be the reason to delay it? What did Euron have to do in Seagard that he couldn't leave straight away? If he thought that she hadn't paid any mind to that then he must've thought her simple-minded. Amara was looking into everything, everything that could manipulate the situation to her favor.

She walked much faster, not wanting him to touch her again. He wasn't pleased with that neither because the healer was pulled her by the back of her clothes so that she walked a few inches behind him, enough so that his eyes could catch her from their corners. It must've been some sort of insult for an ironborn to have a woman walk ahead or alongside them, and that's why he had been so rough that she nearly fell backwards.

His men were silent, which was to be expected. Amara found out the hard way that they had their tongues gruesomely ripped from their mouths. They were subservient to insane degree, possibly because they were muted or their minds had been sorely messed with by Euron's silver tongue. They were so fearful that they couldn't realize all of them was stronger than one of him. She couldn't even think that coercing them to turn themselves against him would work. They were just that loyal.

The Pyke wasn't a beautiful castle; it was dreary, grey, and fit for the dead in her opinion. The halls were long like they stretched on forever and they were so skin-crawlingly silent. It was so quiet that if a ghost would move a painting by an inch, they all would hear the sound of the canvas gently scraping the wall. She instantly hated the feel of this place, even the air felt like someone had just died in these castle walls. How many ironmen and women roamed these halls as silhouettes? Come to think of it, this place might've truly been suitable for Euron for Theon didn't belong here. He had too much life in him, and deep down he was bit more kinder for this place. This place would change him. It would turn him cruel, she thought.

They moved as a group to what appeared to be the Great Hall that was within the Great Keep. Amara's eyes scanned the room to see a lot of the ironborn had been assembled here, possibly for other reasons since many of them were of pure shock upon Euron's appearance. He paid them no mind and kept his stride towards the seastone chair. It was oddly structured, made of elements unknown to her, but looked like it was painted by black oil and made in the perfect shape of a kraken. Euron set his eye on it and nothing could break him from marching towards it. He eventually turned to face them and sat down, a small smile etched itself across his face as he sighed and rubbed his hands against the sleek arms of the chair since he enjoyed the sleek feel of it. It might've more than that, Euron might've enjoyed the power that seeped into him by just sitting on it. A throne makes a man go crazy.

"Crow's Eye." One of them ironborn men called out, "What are ya doing here? Ye've been exiled for years… Never to return."

Amara wanted to smirk, she suspected that much. Euron wasn't even wanted by his own family. "My brother exiled me and now my brother is dead so I've been told. Who better to take the throne? My brother Victarion or me? My _deceased_ brother's son willingly stays with the Starks that took him. He is nothing but a stranger and enemy to us now, and my brother's daughter?" His brow raised in question, "Would you want a woman to be King of the Isles and the North?"

What did Euron do to be exiled, Amara wondered. Possibly something heinous, he does terrible things, and she could see that Lord Balon would've had enough sense to send him away for that. Could it have been the incident between Euron and Victarion about his third salt-wife? Did that woman's death really have such an impact to get Euron banished?

There was a part of her felt wrong, wrong for the fact that she had kept Theon away from his father. Now Balon was dead and Theon would've never got to know him again, but would it have been worth it? Balon was bound to die. How he died was a mystery in itself. Euron would've killed Theon if he found him a threat to his seastone chair. Then again, maybe Euron was right. Maybe the ironborn seem him as some sort of stranger due to him being gone for nearly most of his life. Theon wouldn't want the Iron Islands if too many men would fight against it.

"I came here to claim the throne as King of the Isles and the North." Amara clenched her teeth, wondering what gave him right to try and take the North.

' _The North belongs to Robb.'_ She thought, _'Robb nor Jon will never let you take it from them.'_ He would've beat her senseless if she had been brazen and said that in front of his lord and ladies, who were shocked at his declaration already. Whispers began to the fill the Great Hall, all of them too low for her ears to keenly hear, but one stood out to her above the rest: "I don't s'ppose you think he be the one to kill Balon, do ya?" Her eyes widened at that before looking at Euron, who let his eye roam across the hall and observe the gossiping people. Did he kill Balon or did he hire someone? One would surely think it strange that he came back to the Pyke as soon as he was dead. He was alive and well as far as Amara knew when she was in Seagard before being kidnapped as well as before when Robb wanted to send Theon here for aid.

Euron pressed his fist to his cheek, his elbow propped by the seastone chair's arm. "Does it matter? I have claimant to the throne, and I have taken it. Anyone who dares to go against me will meet their end and their bodies thrown to the crabs. It is that simple, really. So, who is the first to oppose or will you all bend the knee?"

Silence came swiftly and it stayed for a few minutes of time. The lords and ladies were all looking at one another, unsure on what to do. Kneel or die. That were the only choices Euron was giving them. And seeing how life proved to be much more precious, many of them forced themselves to bend the knee while a select few remained seated. Some chose to obey while other chose to die. Euron didn't even spare them the chance and sent his tongue-less men after them, creating a giant massacre in the Giant Hall.

As much as she did not want to watch, she knew that Euron was watching her. His lone eye observing how she would soak into it and whether she would cower in fear or act resilient. Her eyes feasted upon the savagery, her eyes prickling with tears at the sense of uselessness that began to eat away her. If she was strong, if she had killed Euron on the ship, if she had done this and that then maybe none of this would've happened. The healer was feeling thirteen again in the most horrible of ways. There was nothing she could do about anything or else she would die along with them.

The gurgling screams slipped into her ears, shaking her ear drum and the entirety of the Great Hall. It was also shaking her memories of the corpses and that he left in his wake before. As much as she wanted to block out the memory, she knew that it was something that would haunt her for the rest of her life. That wasn't something you could forget; your mind couldn't just block something like that out. And now this was another memory that would stay with her, her mind being poisoned by Euron's cruelty.

The sound of steel meeting flesh, passing through it and splattering blood on the floor was constant. The men did not hold back, plunging their swords deep into any body that that stood or sat in brave defiance. They weren't kind, some of them hacked off limbs to give that person a slow death; letting the crimson liquid inside them spill and spill until they were dried out. Why not a quick death? Why make it so painful? Was that Euron threatening the remaining people alive of what he would do to them? They looked every bit of horrified as she felt, especially the women. They probably never seen such carnage before and now they would see it in every moment of their life, even in their dreams for a long while.

Pieces of her wanted to kneel down and scream, to block it all out. What good would that do anyway? It wouldn't change anything nor would it reverse time to bring her back to Seagard and taking Jason Mallister's advice. This was something she had to deal with and no amount of wishing or ignoring was going to help her.

It felt like forever, when it all stopped. The smell of blood was wafting in her nostrils and making her squeamish. Her eyes closed for a good long while, rather seeing darkness than the hacked pieces of flesh that were once people. She could hear the cries and whimpers of women, and even the pleas and wails of their children. She hadn't even known children were here and that made her heart ache even more.

"The rest of you, I am thankful that you bend the knee to me. You will be rewarded well for your loyalty. It has not gone unnoticed." Her mind could see the smile he was wearing where her eyes could not. She also heard him lifting himself from the chair and his feet leisurely making their way towards her. Amara forced her eyes open, looking at him through her peripherals. "Amara, you must be hungry and tired. Why not get ourselves something to feast on and retire for the remainder of the day while the Great Hall is cleaned?"

His muscled arm was stretched out for her to take, and Amara refused it. For one, her wrists were bound. Second, she didn't want to touch him. She stayed still and kept her eyes away, her body seething like there was fire in her veins and halfway trembling with a storm of hatred that aged for him. At least she could still feel her dagger in her boot. That was probably the only thing that could give her just a hint of happiness. This dagger would put an end to him, she promised herself that. Her mind kept visioning on her stabbing it deep into the only eye he had left or in his chest, right where his heart should be. He might still live since she doubted such a thing still beats within him. No matter if the monster was with or without a heart, he would still bleed, he would still die, of that she was sure.

With a sharp turn, she stood beside him and waited for him to lead her. His smile never once tugged downward as he let his arm fall to his side. Euron led the way towards the the Keep they would be staying in. Amara hoped she had her own room and wouldn't be sleeping in his, she figured Victarion would think of her ruined if Euron decidedly chosen him as her iron-husband. Her eyes decided to look at the walls, catching sights of the former Kings of the Isles. All of them looked mean and hard of heart, not a single painting had a smile or a glimpse of kindness in their eyes. Even the women, some of them even looked sad or just as bitter as the men.

"Bring the lil' dusky here." Euron said to one of the tongue-less men, which left Amara confused. Who was dusky? They stood in the middle of the hall, waiting for this person to be brought to them until a beautiful woman was before them. Amara's eyes captured the sight of her beautiful skin first, reminding her pure bronze. Her skin was smooth and it glistened, even from the flames of the torches that lit the hall. Her eyes were dark and big, purely round, and she had her head low. "She will be your handmaiden until I find better use of her."

Better use? She either as a bedwarmer or something more sinister, prior to this sudden decision Amara thought. Euron cut her ropes with a quick swipe of his knife, and she instantly rubbed her sore wrists with a few rubs of her hands. He pointed to the door opposite of the room that was meant for her supposed handmaiden, "That'll be your room, woman. Make sure Amara's room is locked at night, will you?" The dark-skinned woman nodded obediently, not uttering a word. Euron then opened the door, pointing towards it for Amara to go in and he let the other woman following her in before shutting the door.

A handmaiden, he said. She was not a lady nor a princess. Amara didn't have the need for Zola because she was fully able to take care of herself, and it made her seem like slave than it did a servant. She might've just been one too, seeing as Euron never gained the things he wanted. He took them by force, by pure violence and threats. Now it was awkward in every sense, seeing as this was the first time meeting her. Was she on the ship? Amara had never seen her on it, maybe Euron had her busy doing other things and so their paths never crossed until now. Her blue eyes studied the young woman, who stood there with her head neither held high or low. It was like she was waiting, for what? Amara had no clue. Not wanting to sit in this silence any longer, she decided to strike up a conversation first. "Hello."

The woman eyes snapped to her with surprise, brows raised and a look of uncertainty etching across her face. She gave a tug of her lips, "Hello." The reply was low, small, but it was a reply nonetheless. The woman's voice was soothing; kind of husky, having a richness that was hard to describe. It was just a simple hello but Amara noticed the way she talked. It sounded nice with a foreign twist.

"My name is Amara," She hoped she was being too forward, even thought this was the basis of a conversation when meeting a stranger. "What is yours?"

"Zola." The dark-skinned answered almost meekly, her smile then went into a straight line and her eyes lowered. "But Lord Euron calls me dusky." He called her dusky because of her brown skin. It seemed like an insult coming from him, even though he could compliment the things he liked. He sure did when he spoke about Victarion's last salt-wife he took. Amara liked Zola's skin, it was a golden brown and looked like it kept heat, a radiant warmth.

Having noticed the accent when she first spoke, just from hearing her speak more, let Amara figure out that she was from Lys. During her travels, she met few people from there, so the accent was memorable from those experiences alone. "You're from Lys, yes?" Amara smiled at the shocked expression. Zola gave a quick nod. From the looks of it, she might've been the same age as Theon. She looked older while her eyes were round and big like a childish, so it made her younger in that sense. Sometimes a girl's body matured faster than her face, and that's why age was such a tricky thing. "Would you come sit next to me?" The healer patted the space of the bed next to her.

She seemed hesitant, almost afraid to be anywhere near her. For Zola to be her handmaiden, she would have to accept them being close. It would be hard to pull off in front of Euron that she was doing her duty, even if Amara didn't want to cross into Zola's space that she didn't want anyone to intrude.

With a bit of patience, Amara watched Zola took slow steps forward, making her way towards her and slowly sitting down on the bed. She rested her hands on her lap, unsure of what to do with them. "I'm not going to harm you, Zola. I don't want to be here as much as you do." Amara sighed after saying so, eyes looking up at the ceiling and towards the window that had iron bars. If only she was small enough to slip through them.

"You are slave too?" The question made Amara frown, and only confirmed what she thought Zola to be.

She wasn't bought nor sold, she was just taken. Now she was either going to be his salt-wife or given to his brother, which seemed like an act of slavery, but it was nothing compared to what Zola might've gone through. So how she could explain that? "Not really." She settled, "I've met Euron years ago and now he keeps me for some plan of his."

"You should never speak. I stay mute and just listen. He whips, he hits. He doesn't like for woman to talk, only scream." No wonder why she never heard her, she was silent. Hearing that only intensified her hatred for Euron and made her sympathetic for Zola. Amara always spoke, whether asked or no. It was was lead her to where she was today, maybe she should keep her mouth shut.

"You can always talk to me, Zola." The healer gave her a smile, "Let's be friends."

"Friends?" The young woman repeated, "You want to be… friends?"

"Yes." She nodded, staring straight into Zola's dark eyes to remove any doubts. "Friends."

Her lips parted, eyes popping open in their curiosity and surprise. Maybe it was a lot, maybe she was moving too face, because surely the woman didn't have a friend while she dealt with the trauma that Euron put her through. Amara could understand if Zola didn't trust her, she wouldn't force the woman to. Depending on how long either one of them would be around, it was best to have someone to confide in.

"You don't have to!" She said quickly, trying to rectify things, thinking the silence was a bad thing. "I'm not going to force you to do anything that you don't want to do, Zola."

There still wasn't an answer given. Instead, Zola presented Amara a smile; a big grin, one that kind of lit up the room like it was the source of light in this place. Amara mirrored it, sincerely, as Zola grabbed Amara's small hands in hers. Whether she would eventually want to help Amara for them both to escape or not, Amara wasn't sure, but the first step was the most important one.

 **...**

While he was in Riverrun, he thought his mind had gone half crazy. He knew she was gone and yet it hadn't stopped him from lingering at places he would always find her. Whether it been the bedchamber she used, where his mind manipulated an image of her lying in bed asleep or at her desk, reading or filling more blank pages to her medical journal. Sometimes he would make his way to the Godswood day or night, visions coming to him of her standing in the middle of the airy garden to take in the smell of the flowers or gaze hopelessly at the moon. The last place would be the infirmary, a silhouette of her smiling as she worked or talking and joking with the patients to give the men reason to smile to endure their pain. Every time they caught sight of him, they often asked him about her and he was always unsure of what to say. He didn't know where she was or how she was doing or if she was alive or not.

The search party that Robb organized left yesterday morn and that hadn't relieved him in the slightest. Jon wanted to join them but Robb wouldn't let him, saying he needed him at Golden Tooth. He halfway wanted to tell him that he didn't care about the Lannisters anymore. That would've been a lie since he truly still wanted to put an end to them. He also knew Amara would advise against giving up, especially if it was all for her.

"My prince," Jon knew he could never get used to that. The whole formality of it made him cringe slightly, but yet he kept a calm face and never outwardly showed his odd disapproval of it. He eyed Dacey, giving her his full attention. "We're going to start the column, you will ride next to the king, yes?"

He wasn't going to get used to this either. Being called prince was a little unsettling, almost like it didn't really belong to him. It truly didn't, he wasn't Robb's true-brother. Sometimes he wanted to tell Robb that maybe this was wrong. Robb's mind couldn't be changed though. Once he set his mind to something, you couldn't persuade

"I will, I just needed some time to think. Thank you, Lady Dacey." His head moved in a sluggish nod, showing how out of focus he was again. She kept her eyes on him for several more minutes before turning her steed and meeting with the others.

Jon looked down at Red Hare, who had been a little calmer than usual. Maybe he could sense his sadness? Ghost did and even had some sadness of his own. The white wolf whined often and slept in Amara's bed during their short stay in Riverrun. It was like he was looking for her, wanting to be around the places that still held whiffs of her scent. He felt himself jealous since he couldn't smell it himself, he had to remember how she smelled from memory.

Speaking of Ghost, he was lying down on his belly next to Grey Wind, who would nudge him to encourage him to move. Ghost's eyes stayed glued to the direction of the West, looking out to where only the Gods know. Maybe he sensed her or maybe he just knew of the direction they would be going. How does one know what goes on in a wolf's mind?

With a light squeeze to Red Hare's sides, the horse went into a lope towards Robb. Greatjon was taking a swift of his wine from his gourd, looking every bit as bored. From the way he looked, Jon could tell he missed the healer's too. They got on unusually well, and Jon still seemed surprised that Amara found his antics entertaining. Umber would leave her laughing to tears and also struggling to appear like a proper woman in front of Lady Stark. Her sense of humor was questionable to many lords and ladies, but Jon favored her lack of embarrassment to dirty and sometimes violent jokes.

The ride to Golden Tooth was quiet and he couldn't say that he hated it. It left him to think, allowing him trying to calm himself and prepare for the battles to come. Stafford Lannister wasn't a very seasoned warrior with a reputation that overhyped his might. He was still a Lannister, and a lion should never be underestimated. A wolf tries to understand his enemy, knowing that its enemy is capable of anything.

"They'll find her."

Robb's voice had him turn to face him, his grey eyes opening a little wider at what he said. Jon didn't want his worry to be painfully obvious, he knew Robb had enough to think about. And even if his brother didn't want to admit it, he was worried about her himself. "I know." He had his doubts but he wasn't going to tell Robb that.

"You know or you're just saying that to appease me?" The corner of his lips lifted, Jon returning the half-smile with one of his own.

"You know me well." The conversation didn't prolong, and surprisingly their own short conversation made it easier to breathe. The other lords and ladies decided to have a conversation of their own, and the usual argument between Maege and Greatjon went on.

"Lord Jason hasn't returned to us yet." Theon spoke up, "Why is that? He hasn't brought news of my Father."

Jon's brows furrowed, taking on a questioning look. "Strange, we should've gotten word from him. He should've came to Riverrun days before we did."

Robb set his jaw, "Lord Balon rejected to join hands, but Lord Mallister has told me he was going to stay in Seagard for a bit longer. He said he there's something going on at the Pyke and he wants to know of it. He believes it important."

"Lord Balon is up to something you mean?" Jon asked, wondering what it could be himself? Balon was only king but a short time, surely he wanted to be king again? Robb was going to give him a crown, that were the words he written in his letter for alliance, but why hadn't Jon thought about it so thoroughly. _"We pay the iron price, never the gold."_ Balon might've wanted his crown by his own terms, by taking it; the iron price.

"If my father isn't so foolish, he'll take the gold. He was only king for a sunrise." It was nearly scary how Theon's words matched his own thoughts. Jon wanted to shake his head, to rid the idea that Balon was foolish enough to want to fight them. If he would not join them, could that mean he'll stay still? That was a dumb thought, Jon reasoned. Lord Balon must be itching to move, and that made Jon worry.

"Whatever the old seacrab plans to do, we surely should keep ourselves sharp." said Prince Oberyn, his dark eyes glittering rather dangerously. "He has a massive fleet, bigger than ours could ever be, and we would be complete fools to meet him out at sea."

He spoke no lie with that, fighting Balon in his element was stupid. Jon glanced to Theon, who looked deep in thought with a frown. Even if he and the Greyjoy heir weren't close, argued by the constant, he wondered just how he would feel going up against his father? Would he turn or would he stay? If they defeated Balon by some off chance, they could let Theon have the Iron Islands. He can do with it what he wanted, they didn't care. Theon and power sounded rather bad, terrible actually, but it was his by right. Nobody could stop him from claiming the Pyke, Robb might even encourage it.

Greatjon breathed through his nose to let out a harsh sound. It sounded stronger than a snort, but Jon was sure that's what it was meant to be. "If you think I'll be cautious over that old fart then you must be jesting. He can't stay in the sea forever."

The Wolf King gave a smile to his champion's enthusiasm but said nothing. Robb wasn't so optimistic to think that Balon wasn't stubborn enough to not drag out a battle that way. "What will you do, Lord Umber? Take a little boat and go fight him head on?" Oberyn was curious, smirking with hands lazily loose on the reins.

"I have half a mind to do just that, Martell." Fearless as ever, nothing could deter Greatjon from a fight; not a giant nor a fleet of seven thou-strong, mountains or a blizzard. If Greatjon had the will, he would certainly make the way.

"Save that for the Wildlings." Maege sneered as she said the name of the free fol. "I hear they are causing their own stir, and we'll have to deal with them too. Not only are these self-righteous bungehole lions and squid king is in our way, but these Wildlings present themselves. I'm tired of the whole lot of them."

It seemed as if they had an enemy at every corner. It was the Watch that was suppose to deal with these Wildlings, but some of them made their way south of the wall somehow. Jon thought that maybe he could go and see what was happening in castle black, as their uncle on why the Wildlings were growing large in number and if there was anything they could do.

"Wildlings, now they give ya a fight." Guzzling down more of his red drink, Greatjon smeared dried wine on his lips, nearly making them red. "I'll fight 'em if nobody else ain't so willing."

"You think you can solve even the simplest of problems with your dumb, big fists." Rolling her eyes, Lady Mormont pushed some of her hair away from her face, "I guess anything that has to deal with your head is much harder for the likes of you."

"You can keep your silly, little mind games." He waved his hand dismissively, practically proving that he cared for a fight than the strategy. "I have no time nor the patience for them."

The darkness soon came, like a thief, robbing all of them of daylight and giving them only night. There were twinkling stars were lighting up the sky as usual, but there was no moon tonight. Jon thought it fitting, not wanting to see it because it served as a reminder of what Amara loved to gaze on, especially since he was forced to say outside with the men. They all sat by a by the large fire, that crackled and snaps at the wood made to keep it going. It danced like it was alive, swaying with the wind that came that wasn't strong enough to put it out.

By the fire was Prince Oberyn, laying on the grass with a gourd of wine with his dark eyes reflecting the fire. Smalljon was sitting there as well with Torrhen and Eddard, who glanced at Lady Dara's way every now and again. Jon rose a brow but couldn't help but to stifle a laugh, he should've known that they would be eyeing her. She was one of the few women here, pretty and all. She hadn't noticed their stares though, too busy engaged with Lady Dacey and stitching. It seemed so strange to see a girl wearing chainmail, breeches, and armor with needle and cloth to stitch, and it reminded him of Arya except she wouldn't have been so willing. It would've been forced upon her, but he was sure Arya wouldn't mind if she was allowed to fight afterward.

Jon missed her greatly, just wondering where his little sister had gone. How does a girl so young get herself missing without a trace? Not a whisper or an eye to speak or catch of her. It was like she had made herself the wind and went to a place unknown. The search party should've been for her too, but Arya was lost longer than Amara was. She had been gone for months, somehow escaping Joffrey. Amara had been missing for at least a good few weeks.

"Is your face always so sullen? Why ruin such a pretty face, Prince Stark?" The Martell prince brought him out of his thoughts, all so he could frown. Pretty, how often had he heard that. It was a bit embarrassing to be called that. They never called his father or his brother pretty. They were manly men, but he was the pretty one. "He's about as pretty as my own daughters. He might just be as pretty as my niece!"

Torrhen and Eddard burst out in a fit of laughter while their friend wasn't laughing nor amused. "Enough." He eventually told them with a glare, growing tired and irate of hearing them.

"You still never answered my question," Persistent as usual, the Dornish could never be put a hold, "Why so sullen?" It seemed like he wouldn't be able to escape the question, even Lady Dacey and Dara looked at him with curiosity along with Torrhen, Eddard, and Smalljon. Dara tried to hide inquisitiveness by staring at his feet than boldly at his face like Dacey.

"That's just how my face is." He rarely smiled, Jon could admit that much. There was nothing to smile for really, especially back in Winterfell and being raised as he was. He found a newer reason to and he didn't want to get into that.

"No, no." Wagging his bony finger, he shook his head in the same speed. "You were just," Pinching his fingers together, he squinted for effect, "a _little_ happier than that in Dorne."

Eddard glanced at him, almost wondering if this conversation was making him uncomfortable. It was, but Jon didn't like to be seen as bothered or weak. He didn't want anyone feeling the need to rescue him either. How could he go about it? He could hardly think of a proper response in time.

"I'm _fine_." It came out a little harsh, he stressed it a little too much. Now he seemed like a liar to which he was because what he was doing was indeed lying.

"Oh, you are _fine_ indeed, Stark. That was nearly believable." The Dornish prince raised his brows, eyes squinting skeptically. "The girl they're searching for, was she your lady friend? Ever since news of her disappearance came, you've changed."

He wasn't sure why Oberyn even cared or noticed the change in his behavior. He wasn't sure how much of difference was so obvious to him and he halfway didn't want to talk about her to him. He heaved out a sigh, giving a slight shake of his head. "She's not my friend."

"So she is your lover?" He corrected himself, and Jon wasn't sure if he should allow him to call her that either. Maybe friend was a much more suitable word, but they almost kissed and he loved her. That made her something more, like an almost-lover. A little more than just a friend.

"Something like that." Jon settled. Torrhen smiled knowingly, almost shocked that Jon finally admitted it out in the open. Eddard, however, was shocked as Dacey was fighting not to smugly smile all on her own. Smalljon was even more surprised, like someone told him that the blue-eyed giant Old Nan told them about was real.

The Red Viper gave him a rather sad smile, almost like he pitied him. Jon didn't want his pity, but he felt grateful that someone would want to give him that much. "Is she why you fought so hard?"

Was Amara the reason why he fought? He quickly thought no. He didn't think of her during that Battle of Whispering Woods or the camps. He thought about his father, he thought about protecting Torrhen and Eddard, protecting Robb, and he thought about beating the Kingslayer in a battle of the blades. Not once did he think of her then.

"She's the reason why I'm at Robb's side and not at the Wall." He admitted with a minuscule smile, almost wondering just how things would've been at Castle Black. How much would've changed if she hadn't convinced him, tear-faced and weak. What would he being doing? Would he have finally become a ranger and taken the oath?

"Then what makes her so special that you're losing your wits?"

It startled him, the question that is. Her image came to the forefront of his mind as quick as the crackle of the fire, "She needed me." He gave him an answer so simply, "No one has ever needed me before, so I wanted to live up to that."

Oberyn seemed satisfied by the answer. The way he smiled made him curious, but he didn't dare ask. Silence lingered just a little before Dara's eyes finally drew themselves to look at him, "Why did you want to go to the Wall? I hear it is so desolate and filled with the strangest and cruelest of men. Why would someone like you be so willing?"

Why did everyone want to hear his life story and even his love life? That is what he really wanted to ask. All of them were looking at him, questions in their eyes, and their ears big for answers. Jon never liked talking about himself or his feelings. It was uncomfortable. "Before I was Jon Stark, I was Jon Snow. Bastards here are not treated as they are in Dorne."

The Dayne girl quickly looked apologetic, but before the apology could leave her lips, Jon gave her an understanding look that eased her. "I suppose Robb is rather grateful to her, who I hear is an excellent healer as well." Oberyn took over the conversation again, rescuing them from the awkward silence that was nearly born.

"She is." Torrhen spoke up, "She stitched me good, a little bit stern while she did, but I never had a wound heal as fast. Many of the soldiers are fond of her, she gave them hope to keep limbs they were sure was gonna be taken from 'em."

"I'd like to meet her, and hopefully soon." Oberyn smiled, drinking some of his wine. "Pretty women and pretty boys are good to have in war."

"Is that all you think about, my prince?" Dara told him with her eyes staring at him from her corners, "To lay with whoever catches your eye?"

The Red Viper snickered, hand laying over his stomach as he lied down on the grassy ground and looked up at the stars. "Why not? I'd be craven if I didn't."

"That's why you have so many children." She sighed, shaking her heads before letting her eyes focus on her embroidery hoop.

"Just what are you making, Lady Dara?" Eddard question, voice a bit shaky from nerves.

Her violet eyes kept to her stitching, but she gave him an answer. "I'm going to stitch our king a handkerchief."

"Besotted with the king are you?" Dacey's lifted her brows, halfway amused.

"I am _not_ besotted with the king, Dacey." Jon hardly believed her, she said that a little too quickly and with a little spice. She tried to control her nervous expression and accidentally pricked herself in the process, "I just think he needs a little luck. Everyone needs a little luck is all."

"Besotted." The Mormont girl sighed, rolling her emerald hues. It was clear as day that Dara Dayne may have thought of the king highly like a girl smitten. It might've not been love, it might've been pure admiration. At least, that's how it seemed to Jon.

Eddard lowered his head in defeat, all hopes he had of stealing her attention was undoubtedly overshadowed by Robb. Jon had been in shoes before, and he clearly needed to give him a talk later.

Seeing as he could escape from them now without being pursued, he took a walk to clear his head.

 **...**

"Do you think the sky is the same all over?"

The question was sweet, innocent even. Sometimes Zola could be so fierce but then she would shrink down to a curious little girl with a thirst for knowledge. It always made Amara smile, she enjoyed her curiosity. In ways it reminded her of Arya, Austin, and Bran. Those three were always eager to learn, but only about subjects that interested them. Her heart ached just a little more, imaging their faces with their eyes big and their ears open to soak in every word that they heard. It made her miss Arya just a little more seeing as she hadn't seen the girl since she left for Winterfell all the months ago. Now she was missing and alone.

She couldn't let the gap of silence linger, knowing she had to answer Zola's question. Amara pried her lips apart, the corner of her lips tugged upward. "I imagine it is. I'm sure if it is night here then it should be night everywhere. The same dark sky, the same stars, and the same moon."

Her eyes wandered to every object before her as she sat in the chair, feeling Zola's nimble fingers weaving through her hair. She wasn't sure what design the Lys-born girl was going for and she hadn't really cared despite not all too fond of intricate hairstyles that would have to be undone later on. It was just for fun now seeing as it was night and they didn't have to appear anywhere.

"There is no moon today." It disappointed her just a little. She would have nothing to gaze at if she bothered to look out the window today when Zola left. "The say a when the moon goes away, it means that there is a new beginning to come."

A new beginning? To what? What was going to begin? It was unsettling since for them, this something new would be here at the Pyke. If only this new beginning was a world without war, without Euron, and her being able to go back to Winterfell. If only this new beginning was a reverse of time where she stood beneath the branches and leaves of the weirwood tree, staring up at Jon's smiling face with the echoes of Austin and Bran's laughter in the distance. All the while Robb was but a young lord smiling and weightless shoulders, Theon shooting his arrows with his overwhelming ego every time he hit his target, and Lord and Lady Stark smiling and happy with the direwolves running around his boots and her skirts.

If only a new beginning was an old one with a different ending to call it new. Amara wanted to pray that it would come true, even though she knew it would never happen. She was smarter than that, realizing how cruel the world could be. It can be crueler, she could be dead and wouldn't be allowed to have hopes and dreams, but it was still cruel nonetheless.

"That doesn't sound like a good thing to me." The healer practically mumbled.

Zola didn't sound so defeated, she in fact sounded hopeful. "It could mean a new start for us." Her heart ached with the twists of guilt. How many days had Zola wished for change? She was a slave before she met Euron and was still one now. How many times had she hoped to be her own person and not someone's bedwarmer; their property. It was wrong to sound so downtrodden when a fresh start was something Zola could only hope for.

She decided to keep silent, not wanting to ruin her happiness. It would've been cruel if she spoke harsh words and made that happiness disappear while they were together. Zola was her only friend here and the peace she had away from Euron and the distraction from thinking of Jon and Austin. The peace was long since Euron had not came by. In fact, she hadn't saw him since he showed her to this room. Amara only heard whispers of what he was doing since then from the servants that gossiped as they cleaned. Apparently, he was greeted by a rather angry visitor. A spitfire they called them by the name of Asha Greyjoy. The first Greyjoy woman she heard of and had no idea about her except that she hated Euron.

Amara liked her already.

Any enemy of Euron was a friend of hers.

Speaking of Asha, maybe it was best to learn about her from her friend. "Have you heard anything about this Asha, Zola?" Zola had more freedom than she did. At night her door was locked by a key and she was accompanied by saltmen whenever she wanted to walk around the bleak castle. Zola was allowed to go anywhere since Euron wanted her at his bed or by his side for information about what Amara was doing.

His main priority of her sending messages was to find out if Amara ate. She did because of Zola, who watched the cooks with trained eyes, making sure nothing out of the ordinary was added in. It was hard to believe Euron would do that now since he had plans for her. _"Unspoiled and healthy"_ as he once said. He was still unpredictable and she liked to make sure just in case he one day decided to throw her away.

"Asha is his niece." The news made her brows lift, surprised to find out that Theon had a sister. "She wears breeches and chainmail like a man."

Another good thing. That meant the girl was brave and had a skill and mind for battle. If Amara could just find her way to meet her then maybe she could work her way on leaving this island. Of course, Asha might wanted to use her to scheme to end her uncle to which Amara would jump on board with. But what if Asha didn't trust her? That seemed more likely.

"Is she still at Pyke?

Zola nodded, "She is. Do you want to meet her?"

"I do." It would be too much for her to be so eager. This was her one of her golden opportunities of escape and she wasn't sure if another would ever come. "Can you tell her to meet me? By the shoreline where I like to watch the sea."

"Why do you want to meet her?"

"I'm curious of her." It felt wrong to lie but she didn't want Zola to interfere in this. She wasn't willing to risk Zola's life even though she already was by making her set up this meeting. Amara would take the blame and hopefully Zola would be spared. In the end, Amara planned for them to escape together or if things couldn't go that way, she would let Zola get the freedom she deserved. It wouldn't be right, for her to take the freedom for herself when Zola had been trapped for years.

Zola had not questioned her rather strange answer. She seemed to have accepted it for the most part, and for that Amara was glad. "I hope to meet her at sunrise and if that isn't good then sunset. Euron has you locked the door the second hour of the night."

Hopefully the plan would go through. Amara prayed that Asha wasn't another evil Greyjoy; black of heart and filled with poisonous greed like her uncle.

 **:::**

Her feet dipped themselves into the cold waters, making her body shiver in unexpected delight. It reminded her when was smaller, enjoying swimming at the Jade sea or watching the boats sail away from the harbors. The Sunset Sea as she had learned it to be did have the smell of summer that had been gone for quite sometime. Later on, it would be considerably warmer, but with the sun barely over the horizon, so for now it was freezing.

Zola had convinced Asha Greyjoy to meet her and the saltmen that watched her usually found themselves bored when she decided to frolic by the beach. They never strayed too far but their eyes were never on her. It was like they knew she was too stubborn to to drown herself and she ultimately had no other place to go. The ships were docked at another island, purposely or no? Amara had not the slightest clue.

After a few more meetings of the sea against the shoreline, her ear picked up on the sound of someone coming close by. Her blue eyes looked away from her bare and wet feet to meet a pair that reminded her of Theon's. She certainly looked like a girlish version of him; Theon with teats, Robb might say. Her hair was a darkish blond, the top half-pulled back from her face. She was fair-skinned and wore armor like Zola had said, her face made her looked to be season with battle.

Asha was quiet, climbing her way over the rocks until she was right next to her. She then peered her eyes out at the sea and Amara did the same. "I'm grateful you have come to meet me, Princess." Euron might've taken the throne but Asha was still princess by right. If Asha had things her way, she probably would've been queen most likely.

"I was curious." There was a smirk to her reply.

 _'She a lot like Theon.'_ The healer thought, _'Almost too much like him.'_ And she was hoping that there was a stark contrast soon enough. "What made you so curious?"

"What would my uncle's whore want with me?" That hadn't surprised her, but it did anger her. "I have nothing to offer you and I surely do not intend to sleep with you."

"I'm no whore," Her voice was calm like the sea before them, "at least I'm not now. He plans to make me a wife, a salt-one. I might just carry your ironborn nephew if he has his way."

That seemed to have worked because Asha visibly stiffened at that. The last she needed was her uncle to make a heir and cement his claim to the throne. "Then what is it that you want?"

"I want you to help me escape." Inhaling deeply, she wondered if this was truly going to work. "Me and my handmaiden Zola. I want us to be free."

"And anger my uncle?" She didn't even seem afraid of that. Amara knew just what she was going to say next, "And what am I to get out of it other than him on my back with his sword sharp and ready?"

"I could've offered you an alliance with King Robb Stark," Amused, the Greyjoy girl rose a brow, "but you took Deepwood Motte and he'll want your head unless you give him Lady Glover and her children and surrender it. Whether he'll want to aid you for the seastone chair… I don't know unless you allow me to convince him to keep you alive and not imprisoned."

At least she considered it from what Amara could tell. Asha looked at her from the corner of her eyes, contemplating her decision. "You make a point, but I pay the iron price."

"You'll die trying to pay it if you fight your uncle. Tell me, who sides with you over him? Is your Uncle Victarion even at your side? Would you rather 35,000 thousand Northern with another five thousand that choose to join him along the way with the addition of 20,000 Rivermen with another ten thousand gathering to join him as well. Alas not forget the Dornish that joined with him just recently. I'm sure the number is great, Dorne ought to be thinking highly of him for what he did for them. Do you still choose to fight all of that for the sake of the iron?"

Amara wasn't even sure if the Dornish agreed to help them. It did help the numbers go high and she was every sort of grateful that Lady Catelyn brought her along with the rather boring meetings. Robb did not have 35,000 men marching with him and five thousand others wishing to join him. That other five thousand men were the Crannogmen who would protect the Neck for him, Robb only had 20,000 Northerns while 15,000 others were yet to decide to join him in war. Walder Frey had not given him all his men either. He would wait until a marriage came to be. The ten thousand others from the Riverlands? They were cowards, fearing every since Tywin came to be in Harrenhal with his sellswords. Robb only had 20,000 men and 15,000 Rivermen by now since she's been gone. The numbers were exaggerated only to scare Asha.

"And how do you know all of this?" Asha inquired, "Are you a spy for the Starks?"

"I am a healer for them." She said simply, "I am very close to the family and I am sure they might notice that I am missing right now. I know your brother, though I doubt he is worried for me, but I think he might've heard news about your father by now. I wonder, Robb might just think him worthy for the seastone chair over you and back him. Surely, the last thing you ironborn want is someone that you haven't seen for years ruling you all."

She stumbled a bit, a sense of longing in her. "Theon… Theon is still with him?"

"At his side. They are tied to each other like brothers." Knowing how it felt to be apart from a sibling for long, Amara let her hard visage loosen for a bit of sympathy. "You two look alike. From the eyes and the hair, and from that look you're giving me now... I see Theon in you and you in him."

She scoffed but smirked nonetheless. All the while serving to remind Amara of Theon yet again, "I'll think about your offer. It might just be my only choice."

"I'll be waiting but I hope you decided before Lord Victarion shows. I doubt I'll be so free then." Asha said nothing else but turned and left, leaving in the direction of which she came.

Amara could only hope her planned worked. Her eyes looked back out at the sea, seeing traces of what was Seagard from here. She was so close and yet she felt to be so far. Before she could turn and walk away, her eyes caught sight of a flower she thought to never see for a long time. It instantly brightened her mood, making her hurry her way over before kneeling before. A single blue, Winter Rose was in full bloom. A winter flower blooming in the Autumn without being in the North? How strange.

The blue, Winter Rose was a peculiar flower. It came alive in a breezy and inactive season outside the glass gardens. It had the ability to live in the Winter and prepares itself for it beforehand. Its green and thick stem stretched straight out, but the flower that had so beautifully bloomed at its end calmly casts its head down rather shyly. Despite it being a rose, it was not too assertive and not imperious like its red counterpart. It reminded her of Jon.

It was this flower that brought them together in discovering Arya's cure and also helped blossomed their friendship. She pressed her nose against it, its subtle smell and delicate yet dignified appeared reminding her greatly of the one she loved across the sea.

Amara tried to hold back her tears like a dam does to a river. The river was starting to overflow, slipping through the cracks of the dam before it eventually broke and the pearl-shaped, salty droplets let themselves pour. From her mouth came a cry so raw, she was so grateful that the sea could muffle the sound and not alert the saltmen. It was as if all the pain she tried to sew into herself was being loosened by the threads of her misery.

* * *

 **A/N** : I always felt bad for the Dusky woman. She has it rough.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** I thought I was going to be super busy, but my schedule cleared some. Woot! I'm so happy, now I can write in peace and not fall apart.

A lot happens in this chapter. It is an emotional rollercoaster. The battle of Oxcross seems like such a tedious battle to write and I guess that why G.R.R.M didn't and so I'm not either. I have ideas for other battles anyway since most of the battles I'll be writing about are never gonna happen in canon, and I think they deserve all the details I'm going to go above and beyond to give them. Besides, a battle with Tywin Lannister in the forefront? That deserves _ALL_ my attention.

 **Guest** : There was an interesting thing I read once about the Dusky woman that I love. Since I don't want to give too much away, I'm going to leave it that I know she's mute and tongueless ( which I thought might've been more recent as in close in time before Victarion met her ). So I'm trying to give an alternate spin on canon.

 **Xenocanaan** : I'm glad you found out though! I didn't think I gave any hints but you saw right through me.

 **Lovinurbuks:** Hopefully. c; It was about time!

 **Minstorai:** Writing Euron is honestly so fun I cannot help myself. The two A's must stick together.

* * *

How many weeks would she have to wait to receive an answer? A whole month had gone by since she had last spoken to Asha Greyjoy, and not a single word of acceptance or rejection was given. It left Amara nervous, wondering if the exaggerated information could've found itself into Euron's hands. Even if she lied and added a few things, it was still dangerous if Euron had the slightest knowledge of what he was up against. Amara never wanted to make things harder for Robb than things already were, and there was still the fact that she didn't know the turnout with Dorne. Maybe she should've been patient and thought it out a little more, but the desperation to escape this place kept increasing. The longer she stayed, she was sure Victarion would return in a matter of days and things will spiral out of her control from there.

Another thing that kept her a ball of nerves was Zola slim to none visits. She would come every other day until she hadn't came at all. Her mind kept unraveling on how Euron must've known that Zola helped her meet Asha. What other reason would have to keep them apart like this? If Zola was her handmaiden then why haven't they been in one another's presence? Why did he keep sending different servants to gather her a bath or send her food and to lock her door at night. They even ordered the saltmen to follow her wherever she roamed. It became so strange that Amara opted to not leave her bedchambers at all. Even though it felt like the air was getting thinner and mind was going half-crazy staring at these same walls, she was too scared to meet Euron out of fear that Zola might've been dead.

For now, she was pacing her room in a circle. There wasn't much to do in this place since all her things were taken from her. Her bag with her medical journal and sparse herbs were taken. He thought one of them might've been poison and took it away. He didn't trust her, as he should, even though she had nothing to really kill him with other than her dagger. They say poison was a woman's weapon here in Westeros, and she wished she could adapt to that. Maybe she should concoct poison in the future and keep it on her person. It would make things easier that way.

Her thumb was lightly pressed in between her teeth, her eyes staring down at the floor as her feet kept their pacing. It came to a halt when she heard the door to her bedchamber being opened, and her head slowly turned to look from the feet up to see it was Euron. Her whole body wanted to shrivel up and become so small that he couldn't see her. Her eyes couldn't even find the courage to meet his lone one. She slowly gave up the sweet wish of wishing to shrink or vanish, since sweet wishes wouldn't amount to anything or ever come true.

The Greyjoy king was carrying a tray of what looked to be a bowl of fruit. He always gave her fruit, broth or stew, saying that he wouldn't give her anything too heavy or else she'd get fat. He said if iron women were desired to be slender and long-legged, she was desired as a salt-wife to be dainty. He didn't care if she starved as long as she was small. "I'm sorry your handmaiden hasn't been around." The back of his foot closed the door behind him as he walked in, placing the bowl of what looked to be orange slices in a maroon bowl atop of the flat surface of her vanity. "I've been in good need of her as of late. The days have been awfully stressful."

Her appetite was starting to disappear from the words he spoked. She willed herself to swallow the bile that nearly dared to let itself to be release on the floor. If he was in need of Zola, he needed her to take his stress out on. Whether it was rape or torture, she was far too scared to find out. Just too cowardly to find out what he needed Zola for in privacy.

Amara kept her back facing him, her eyes searching for something to pay attention to before settling on her nails that were now short and ragged. She had been biting them as a stress reliever as of late, and she hoped that Euron wouldn't discover that and voice his displeasure. "What do I owe this visit, Your Grace?" He told her to call him that now. He said that he was a king and there was no more of this "my lord" to be said. Amara nearly denied him until he slapped her just from the sight of defiance in her eyes that he claimed to see. Now that he was choosing violence to control her. She ought to choose her words carefully nowadays. "Has your brother come to Pyke?"

Picking up a slice of the citrus fruit, he took a bite and his eyes crinkled at the immediate sweet taste. "I picked a good few for you. They're very sweet." Amara rolled her eyes, "I would rather you turn to face me while we speak. A king does not talk to a back, much less a woman's." Seeing as she had no other choice, she slowly turned to face him and fixed her expression in a neutral one. "But no, he hasn't. Luckily for you." His lone eye roamed up and down her figure for what reason was unknown to her, "You've gotten quite skinny. Maybe I should give you something heavier; I said dainty, not stick thin. I don't want Victarion to touch you and you break apart. Though what he does with you won't be my concern."

"My apologies, Your Grace." It wasn't her fault, at least not entirely. Zola would monitor the chefs as they cooked and now that she wasn't around, Amara didn't trust anything. She would eat something once a week, playing with fate and trying not to starve.

"C'mon, eat some fruit." Euron inclined his head towards the bowl and she gave light footfalls as she walked forward. Her fingers picked up a slice of orange, eyeing it before pressing it to her lips. It didn't smells strange and it didn't seem to be sprinkle or soaked with anything poisonous that she knew of. She took a bite and she was immediately hit with the sweetness and juices of it. He didn't lie about that, surprisingly enough.

"See, I told you it was sweet." Her eyes glanced at him from the corner as she slowly chewed the first bite. "It just sweetens the tongue, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Your Grace." It tasted untampered and so she swallowed it down, seeing that this was trustworthy, especially since he took another slice to eat himself.

A sigh escaped him, "You're so obedient now. What a refreshing change, I'm starting to think I should have you for myself." Her nose wrinkled by mistake and he caught it. He laughed at her expense, "Oh, I see you're willing to be with my brother more than me. Have I made you hate me that much?"

Seeing as the only response she could think of was an insult, she kept quiet. He didn't seem to like that option either because he frown at her silence. "Ignoring your king, are you?"

Deep inside, she felt the need to scream. Her king? He would never be her king. She wanted to tell him she already swore her fealty to another king; a king she would swear her fealty over a thousand times over. Amara wanted to tell him that he may be king of these islands that nobody wants but he would never be King of the North. What could she say without angering him? What could she say that was let her keep her dignity? Must she bend the knee to him? She told him she doesn't kneel. She would rather stick by that.

"I apologize, Your Grace. Forgive me for my insolence."

The words rolled off her tongue tonelessly. Amara couldn't even find it in herself to want to pretend. The smile came easy as she imagined a piece of orange getting itself lodged in his throat, making him choke to death while she watched with the same smile that she was wearing now.

"I like it better when you smile, Amara."

Her smile instantly fell flat, her appetite completely gone. Amara quickly moved away from her vanity and towards the window, barred, but allowing her to see the sea that surrounded them. "I came to ask you a few questions." Her shoulders stiffened, her eyes nearly widening. She instantly became fearful of what he might ask of her. "I'd like to know why you were in Seagard."

Turning to look at him, she made sure she didn't look as scared as she felt. "I was travelling. I've always traveled. I never stay in one place for long." That was what she used to do until she decided a permanent residence in Wintertown. He must not know of any connection she had with the North and its people.

His roguish, blue eye suddenly became clouded. What that look meant was beyond her comprehension and she didn't like it. "But why go to Seagard? You had a horse, so did you plan to sell it and board ship or were you still heading somewhere? North, perhaps?"

It occurred to her that he must've been thinking about this for a while. Perhaps he tried to figure it out himself before he eventually decided to question her. Maybe he already knew the answer but wanted to see if she would tell the truth. What game was he playing at? "I planned to sell it and go on a ship. Is what I did really out of the norm?"

Looking at her face, Euron chuckled in a rather deriding manner. "You dare lie to me continuously? My, you must not fear me much do you? Maybe I have been a little too soft with you."

"And what lie have I told?" Her hands slowly curled into fists, making them so tight that her knuckles turned white. Her nails practically dug into the skin of her palms as she tried her best not to tremble out of fear.

"I know a great many things, Amara. Things you'd be surprised I know."

She could feel her heartbeat spike from that. Her eyes shining with anxiety, almost afraid that Euron would hear the sound of her heart nearly about to burst just from what he could possibly know. The possibilities were endless and she felt like the floor was about to disappear from her feet just to drop her in a neverending loop.

"You never told me you were a healer."

Amara could control the tremor in her voice, only slightly. She could possibly will her body to move less stiltedly. It was more than easy to make herself smile, even though now it felt like it would've looked as it were pasted on. "Aye, I am."

Euron moved his arm behind him, pulling out her medical journal that must've been tucked halfway in his breeches to keep it from falling. He held it in his hands, waving it in front of her accusingly as well as teasingly. "This is a medical journal, am I right?" Amara gave him a nod as an answer, "And it is written in YiTish." It didn't surprise her that he knew. After all, there was not a single place that the Silence hadn't sailed too, from what she heard. She nodded again. "So you're from Yi Ti?"

"Aye, Your Grace."

"You've had your own clinic?"

Biting down her lip for one second too long, she gave him an answer. "My own? No."

"So you worked for another?" She nodded her head, her lips drawn in to lick them as she briefly remembered the duo she once lived with before meeting Robb and Jon. Now she suddenly couldn't help but to wonder just how they were these days. Adney, she hoped, was but a simple farmer and living an easier life after that time spent with the bandits.

"I did. A father and son."

The room was filled with odd quietness that left her rubbing her arm anxiously. How did he discover that? She kept thinking, wondering if he found out about the clinic in Wintertown. Her little time of infamy died down a while shortly after curing Arya and so she was sure that he hadn't heard about any of it. At least she hoped he didn't.

"I'm glad you told the truth." The smile he gave her was rather twisted, and she was sure she never seen him smile sincerely. It just kept biting at her that his true smiles possibly came at the expense of harming others. Did that truly make Euron Greyjoy happy? Actually, that smile as he sat on the seastone chair was possibly the most sincerest one she ever saw from him.

Power was what made Euron happy.

"I'll leave your fruit alone. You can have it to yourself now." His hand pointed to the bowl and she walked back over, picking up another piece of the citrus fruit. Before she took a bite, her eyes caught sight of something peeking through the sea of oranges. Her eyes narrowed some, confused, as she tried to train her eye on what it was. She moved the orange slice away from her mouth and moved the other orange slices around until she could what the object was, having it completely front and center.

Amara's stomach contracted in a violent dance, and she didn't have the time to clamp her hand over her mouth after dropping the slice of orange that was once in her hand. The bile that left her were chunks of what looked to be food from last week with the addition of the last orange she ate covered in thick chyme onto the bedchamber floor. She heaved again and again, making the puddle grow bigger in size. If she stepped forward, she was sure to step into the vomit she let loose on the floor. It was hard to stand let alone not wobbly, she was feeling entirely weak now.

Her body trembled as she slowly lowered herself to the floor, sinking to her knees until the only retch that spilled out of her lips was a loose, clear liquid. Her throat felt sore from all the stomach acid that was coating it, and the taste of vomit was in every confine of her mouth. The smell even filled her nostrils as she looked back at the bowl with watery eyes. Her stomach dry-heaved again, ready to vomit pure air since she was sure nothing was left in her stomach.

"That was quite the scene." Euron dug into the bowl, pulling out the pink tongue that was nestled in the bowl of oranges. "I suspected you'd be sick just not this much. I was hoping a scream, you're even too proud to do that." An amused laugh escaped his lips, his eyes twinkling in high-spirits at how this all unfolded. "I'm sure you know who tongue this belongs to? Lil' dusky never quite had the chance since she met you."

She feared that. She hoped it wasn't Zola's, but hearing him confirm it made her give out a chest rattling wheeze. "She chose you over me." He threw the tongue on her floor, right on top of her retch, making the sight of it all even more squeamish. Amara forced her eyes shut, trying not to cry and also not forcing herself to throw up all over again. "The poor girl screamed for a whole fortnight. First out of the whippings once I discovered her talking to my niece and the second for when she finally gave in and told me you met with Asha."

The sight of freedom as she envisioned it was slipping away, right through her fingers. "The next time you meet Asha or attempt to escape, it'll be your tongue next."

 **...**

If Jon could be any more honest about it, he would call it the battle rather saddening. Not for him, but for their opponent. Ser Stafford Lannister's men were certainly not prepared for war. They were more green than what Jon even expected after what the ravens told them. In fact, if they were prepared for anything, he could say they were prepared to die. They died fighting, he could give them that, but they held no chance whatsoever. He wouldn't have believed it otherwise had he not killed a few himself. None of them gave in or did not try to their fullest; they died bravely, weakly but bravely.

The battle of the Oxcross was their victory, Robb's victory. But he couldn't help but wonder just how this battle would've ended had these men been prepared for battle longer and were a little more seasoned. Would they have won? Would they have died? Did it really matter to think of these what-if's? Maybe it was better to think of them than to let his mind wander to other things. The month was long and there had been less than good news that came along with it.

He stood in Robb's tent, hearing the cheers of men so proudly roaring their happiness of the battle won outside. Robb was even smiling more so often than not, seeming more like himself than he had been since they last had a heart-to-heart. He was glad to see his brother slowly transforming back to who he once was, but he doubted that he'd stay that way. They received a letter from Lady Stark about her time in Bitterbridge, and Jon had a feeling the news just might be unsettling.

"Olyvar," Robb called his squire, "hand me my mother's letter."

Olyvar gave a nod as he walked over towards the writing desk, picking up the first parchment on top of the pile of many just to quickly making his way back over.

In the tent with them was Theon, Greatjon, Lady Mormont, Ser Brynden, Prince Oberyn, Lord Glover, Lord Karstark, Marq Piper, and a few others. All of them seemed tense, wondering if Lord Renly and Lord Mace Tyrell would join their hand in alliance. That was the whole point of Lady Stark going to Bitterbridge in the first place.

Robb unrolled the parchment, his ice-like eyes looked like the contents of the letter had him in a vice-grip. "What does it say, Your Grace?" Greatjon couldn't handle the silence and the intense expression Robb wore. Jon felt his heart rather heavy in anxiety himself, eyes searching for any clues on his brother's face.

"Lord Renly is dead." His lowered his hand that held the letter, his eyes roaming all over the people in the tent. "Lord Stannis, his own brother, killed him."

Kinslaying was just as bad, if not worse than being a Kingslayer. Lord Stannis, one who Jon thought highly of, had diminished himself so greatly in his eyes. He couldn't help but sigh at the news, raking his fingers through his curly hair as he shook his head.

"So he lowers himself to be a kinslayer? And to think we would've backed him." Lady Mormont spat, the disgust written all over her features.

"My father would've wanted to back him, but after this? Even if he held the greater right…" The eldest Stark closed his eyes, almost holding back the disbelief he was feeling. It still didn't seem all that right, that Lord Stannis would just up and decide to do this?

"I bet that red witch has something to do with that." Ser Brynden spat, "He might've gone mad from keeping her around. She burns people; sacrificing them to her Lord of Light, and the followers grow strong in numbers by the day."

Jon only heard a few rumors about the Red Priestess and none of them were stories he ever wanted to hear again. Burning people for a God? It sounded crazy. It also sounded like he never wanted to meet her so she can to decide she wanted to burn him the same. Jon's faith wavered due to the Old Gods not saving their father, and the Seven letting their Strange run amok. If he were to choose a faith again, it surely wouldn't be to the Lord of Light that demanded sacrifices to be appeased.

"You may leave, Olyvar." His king brother dismissed his squire with the simple words, leaving the Frey boy somewhat confused by the dismissal. He simply gave a nod and left the tent, making Jon wonder why he sent Olyvar away.

"Don't want Frey ears to hear this next news, huh?" Greatjon hit it right on the nose, leaving Robb's eyes glinting in amusement.

"You know me well." With a sigh, he placed the letter into the fireplace. The letter crumpled and blackened, making the smell of its burning waft into the air. Jon watched it until it began to become nothing of what it used to be. "My mother has asked me if she should go to Highgarden to convince Lord Tyrell for me to marry his daughter."

His ears twitched at that, Jon's eyes quickly looking to his brother in surprise. All of them were shocked to say at least, even Oberyn raised his brows. "Lady Margaery, you mean?"

"She says we'd be unstoppable with the Tyrell's." Setting his jaw, his eyes looked towards the fireplace where the letter once was whole before being burned. "But I'll have to break my promise with the Freys. I'll be a king who takes back his promises. I'll be a king that uses people until I don't need them anymore. Without the Freys and them letting us across that bridge, would I have been as successful in the war thus far?"

"Promises are sometimes meant to be broken, you have to remember that." said the Red Viper, his dark eyes showing the slightest bit of understanding. "Nothing is forever, and you'll gain more with the Tyrells than you ever did with the Freys. Give him back the men that still breathe and let the man rot and die. He's lived far too long for my taste."

"He's right. Above all else, you are the reason for where you are now, Robb." Jon spoke up, agreeing with the Dornish prince. "We've only helped you."

He smiled as Robb looked at them, almost like a little boy with a confused and worried gaze. It was almost like he was afraid of what saying yes would do. And even more afraid of what saying no could lead to. Jon hoped that Robb stayed a king for years and year because he never wanted this kind of pressure. Just being a prince was hard for Jon to handle at times. To lead all these people, to have all their lives in your hands, and to make sure that no wrong move be made or all was lost. Though he couldn't deny the small piece of him, like a flickering flame that did enjoy this power because of all the changes that could be made. The gold, the women, and the title meant nothing, but all the good that could come out of it made Jon happy about think rank. If he could rectify things, shouldering all the pressure would be well worth it.

"And whether you get yourself a pretty Highgarden girl or a…" Greatjon had a hard time coming up for a compliment with the Freys. All of them had heard such negative things about his children along with the old lord of the Twins himself. "Or a, uh, Frey girl, we'll still stand with you. And who cares if that old fart takes back his men? We'd be gaining more men with the Tyrells! We'll sooner Tywin Lannister's head on a sword that way."

"And then we'll be enemies of Lord Walder Frey and Lord Stannis." Marq Piper added, "Not like we weren't his allies to begin with. I'm sure some of Renly's own men will side with him or go to you with the Tyrells."

With a nod, he soaked in their opinions. "With the Tyrells I could do something about Deepwood Motte and Victarion Greyjoy at Moat Cailin."

Jon glanced at Theon, who hadn't made much of an expression. He just stood there with his arms crossed as if he hadn't really cared about hearing of his family. Like he completely turned his back on them. "We would also be able to send men to protect Winterfell. It might just be their next target. We need to move swiftly."

Robb nodded in agreement, seeing as Rickon and Bran's safety was a large part of his concern. He had walked back towards the writing desk, picking up another letter. "I've also received a raven from Lady or rather Princess Asha Greyjoy."

Theon visibly straightened at that, his eyebrows upturned curiously as he eyed the letter in Robb's hand. "What does it say?" He asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

"She says she'll return Lord Glovers wife and children as well as Deepwood Motte if we get rid of her Uncle Euron." Jon wasn't sure the price was leveled. As much as they respected Lord Glover, would they put themselves at such a great risk for his family? "She also says she knows of some important information. That her uncle has something of value to us."

"She could be lyin'." Greatjon folded his arms, looking every bit of skeptical. "What could she possibly have that you would want?"

"She didn't say." Jon drew his brows together, feeling himself growing more curious as he thought about what it possibly could be. What if she had Amara or even Arya? It might've been a stretch.

Then again, that could've been his own wishes clouding his judgement. "We'll have to deal with Euron Greyjoy eventually, but it wouldn't be so wise to meet him now."

"I feel the same." His brother nodded in agreement, "I'm going to think of how to handle Princess Asha."

"Any other important news?" Oberyn asked, "You look as if you have more to tell."

"Yes, I do." Robb wore a rather satisfied smile, "My sister says a ships of gold will come. The men who saved her offers to aid us by sending us gold for a warfleet. I'm sending it to Lord Manderly in Winterfell since he asked to take this task before."

The Dornish prince stood confused, brows knitted together. "Your sister has gotten herself a rich ally? Where is she? You say she is overseas, but where?"

"She says she is in Myr." Jon rose a brow, wondering who she had came in contact with. "She didn't say Myr exact in case the raven be killed and the letter in enemy hands, however I'm sure it is Myr with the hints of: "Dragonroad meets the sea". She won't tell me who these gracious people are, she just says we have allies, good ones. Rich ones. Ones we'll need."

"And just how long do they plan to keep her in Myr?" Ser Brynden questioned, "Your mother grows worried by the day without being able to see Sansa for herself."

"Sansa says she will arrive with the ships of gold." His closed briefly, "Unfortunately, she'll arrive alone. The men who saved her don't want themselves to be known to us yet. I doubt it's folly, this is my sister's writing and the words are of her own."

"So she'll be back in Winterfell?" Sansa and Jon were never close, hardly spoke to one another actually save for a few times. To hear her safe in spite of it all was reassuring and he couldn't help but to smile at that, "She'll be with Bran and Rickon."

"And safe." Robb added, "They send her with sellswords, three thousand. They are some men from the Golden Company."

"The Golden Company?!" The shock was evident on all their faces, especially Oberyn's. "They are the largest and most expensive sellswords you could ever get your hands on. They haven't fought on Westeros soil since the War of the Ninepenny Kings!"

"This is what my sister says and she would never lie about this." Neither one of the Starks could wrap their minds around this. Jon was still delirious in his shock, wondering how Sansa managed to gain such an ally. She was a pretty girl and spoke pretty words, but were the words pretty enough for someone to hire the Golden Company? For someone to sends ships of gold? It didn't seem to add up to him.

"Cat will be most pleased." Ser Brynden nodded, his eyes closed. He looked relieve above all else for Lady Stark and her children. "Not only will her daughter return safely, she returns with protection for the boys and gold for a warfleet.

Robb nodded as well, "My mother deserves to rest easy, and she surely will now knowing that. When she returns to Riverrun, I'll make sure she hears of this news. For now, I don't want to over excite her while she tries to give us allies in the South."

"I don't think it is right to keep this from her." Lady Catelyn and himself would never have an amiable relationship, of that Jon knew and would always know. Even if the woman looked at him as he were but a mouse or anything that most people look at disdain that leveled with being a bastard, he still didn't think it right to keep her on this grieving path of hers. Jon always thought the woman strong, even more strong as she gave good council and helped keep Robb keep his head straight on his shoulders. Her father was dying, one of her daughter's missing, her husband dead, and her daughter across the sea. Good news should be more than welcomed, it should be a must. "Your mother probably needs to hear this more than you know."

Robb's expression softened, a look of thanks coming across his eyes at how Jon gave unbiased concern for her. He lowered his head abashedly, feeling all eyes on him now. Even Ser Brynden was looking at him strangely. "You're right. This would be the best news she's heard in a while, and I suppose a happy heart is better than a heavy one. I'll send a raven to her straight away."

 **...**

"You stupid girl."

Amara could barely hear the words, much too tired and delirious to even spit out a response. Her head was throbbing like someone was playing a one note drum and her mouth was drier than the desert plains of Jogo Nhai. This was all the result of her starving herself after Euron gave her that bowl of oranges along with Zola's tongue. She was too afraid to touch anything, she would not even the water or wine. She couldn't trust it. She couldn't trust Euron or any other person of salt and sea. They were all cruel people. That epitome of selfishness that she tried to breakaway from came tenfold after that. She often cried of knowing that after all she had put herself that of what dying would feel like after all this time. Just the thought that she would be leaving Austin parentless again pained her the most. Then the thought of her brother would not knowing if she died, and her halfway wished he wouldn't care for his own sake. And Jon? Amara didn't even want to further hurt herself of what her death would mean to him.

But right now, a blurry outline of a person was hovering over her and shaking her. She wasn't asleep, her eyes were clearly open, but she could hardly recall what she was seeing. Amara wanted them to go away, she didn't want to be fooled into think she could escape out of here again. The part of her mind that could process the situation but she thought to be Asha. She was too afraid of what responding to her would mean. Euron would cut out her tongue like he said he would, and he meant what he said. He didn't lie about maiming or killing for what reason would he have to?

"Wake up! What use to me would you be dead?"

Curling herself into a tighter ball, she shook her head since speaking was something next to impossible. It hadn't matter, whether she agreed to it or not, because she could feel herself being hoisted up. Her arms lazily hanging over small shoulders and the wall of the person's back against her chest. It was Asha, it had to be. She was the only one that could roam when and wherever she wanted while still having a tongue to speak. Who else would be so stupid to save her and what other point would they have had? She seemed to be grabbing things, shoving them into some sort of satchel and Amara hoped her mother's medical journal was one of them.

Soon Asha was speeding down the hall before sliding to an abrupt halt, obviously blocked off by one of Euron's men. It was a fight of quick melee. She seemed to have won because she heard a man's scream rip through the air and the sound of blade meeting flesh in another before she took off running again.

The sound of feet hitting the floors in a run and shouts rang through her ears, making her wince due to her headache. She tried to focus on one thing but all she could see was men charging forward and Asha not raising her bloody blade to stop them. They must've been her men. They seemed willing to die for her cause as they ran past her and she could hear the sound of metal clanging from meeting one another. Soon the smell of the ocean air began to fill her nose and overpowering the smell of blood, and Amara nearly cried in relief at the thought alone of being free.

She wasn't sure what was happening now other than the fact is had gotten dark. Whether it was her consciousness fading or they entered a ship was tricky for her. She soon felt herself being laid down on a cot and the sound of scrambling feet all over the place. Amara tried to force herself to sit up, rubbing her temples to try to ease the headache. "Here, drink this."

The outline of a cup was pushed forward and she took it with shaky hands. It felt too good to have cold, fresh water going down her throat. She drunk it too fast, nearly choking as a result. Her back was given a few pats to ease her, "Thank you." She managed to say even though her throat felt like it was on fire and her voice was raspy.

"Your Robb Stark better be worth all of this. I've risked my life, the life of my men… Everything for all of this!" Amara smiled at how angry she sounded. In the heat of her anger, there was the thrill of it all. She sounded like her adrenaline was pumping to an ungodly degree. Euron was probably furious and undoubtedly having a ship prepared to sail after them. When she felt the ship took off, she hoped that they would reach Seagard or touch some land before he sent a ship after them.

"He's not mine," She breathed, nearly drowning herself in water again, "he's _the_ king. He's the King in the North, if you want the Iron Islands then take them. I'm sure he doesn't care if they belong to you, but the North…" Wiping her mouth, she narrowed her eyes to show how serious she was, "The North is his."

"He can keep it." Asha said, "I don't have the army to take it from him and even if I did, is it worth battle after battle? My uncles may be up to the task, my father once was too, but not I. The Iron Islands are mine, and I wouldn't mind having me some of the Westerlands along with it."

Everyone in this war was getting rather greedy. They wanted every piece of land that never once belonged to them. Amara kept her silence, physically not in the shape to argue as she let Asha pour her more water and she downed it in desperate need.

Suddenly, they both felt themselves jolt forward, but managed to stop themselves from falling. The items on shelves slid and fell to the ground before sliding to the other side, hitting a wall. The both of them had looked at each other as an immediate explosion went off the area below them. Asha's back hit the ship wall and knocking her unconscious instantly as Amara managed to hang onto the bed to stop the same from happening to her.

There was a giant, gaping hole where the wall and floor once was, and the stretch of the ocean and dark sky were exposed. It was obvious they were under attack. Euron's ship must've caught up with them and were firing cannons. Amara was hardly fit for a situation like this, her whole body lacked the energy she needed and she had to force herself to operate on pure adrenaline. Fight or flight kicked itself in full gear as she grabbed Asha, pulling the girl's arms around her neck in order to keep her secure.

Another explosion went off and they were essentially pushed out of the ship, being forced into the cold ocean waters. Asha immediately woken when they broke the surface, gasping for air and slightly panicking with her legs kicking wildly. The ship behind them was sinking as Amara could feel Asha slowly calm down, coming to a realization of what was going on. "My ship! The fucking—Ugh!"

Frantically searching for something, Amara saw a wooden piece of debris with the satchel Asha packed earlier atop of it. She felt Asha remove herself from her and began to swim on her own. "There's a piece of debris over there. I don't know how…" Trying to catch her breath as well as keep herself from swallowing seawater, she squinted as her headache took over. "I don't know how much longer I can last."

Asha looked over towards the Silence slowly approaching them and immediately swam towards the floating piece of wood. She brought it back, allowing Amara to climb on it, and began to push, swimming with it. Amara had not caught sight to any of Asha's men, some of them probably died in the cannon fires or were injured to the point that they drowned. Whatever the cause, she used a piece of the wreckage to paddle along with Asha's swimming.

Whether it was by the Grace of the Gods or pure luck, they managed to escape. They both ran into Seagard and kept going, not once decided to stay in case Euron decided to sack the entire town in search for them. They eventually gotten themselves so far that they had found forests and vast meadows. It would take many days, maybe even weeks, before they made their way to the Westerlands. They had no other choice, and neither one of them complained about it.

 **...**

"Do I really have to go? Why do I have to back home and why must I go back without you? Shouldn't mother know you're alive? How can I keep this secret from her? She grieves for you."

It didn't make sense that she and her father would have to be separated again. She just got him back after feeling like she had lost him forever. Now he was shipping her back home and not coming with her, opting to stay with Aegon, Naran, and the rest of the Golden Company so they can prepare to march for Westeros. He keeps saying they aren't ready and she hardly understood why they weren't and why she couldn't be with them. Yes, Sansa couldn't hold a sword or fire an arrow. She'd have to stay behind in the tents while they fought, but it was better to be sailing back home without knowing how they were.

She had grown to like Aegon, enjoying his company and how worldly he was. He taught her things and even gave her short lessons on High Valyrian. They would play games and he would ask her about the North and King's Landing, wanting to know how it was like through a person's eyes than from words talked to him from books. He enjoyed her pictures of the gardens of the Red Keep, and often asked her how the people differed by the region.

While she grew to know Aegon, Naran became increasingly distant. He hardly spoke to her, that stupid grin he used to wear so oft had became so few and she nearly found herself hardly remembering it. He always wandered off whenever she came around and Sansa found herself growing frustrated by the distance between them. As soon as she began to learn more of him, wanting to trust and understand him, he cut himself off from her. And now he didn't even care if she was leaving, he hadn't even came to see her off.

Part of her hoped that he would be at the harbor to watch the ship sail, even though the back of her mind tried to warn her that he wouldn't. That she shouldn't care if he didn't. Even screaming the words in her head didn't help make her believe it.

"Your mother misses you dearly and would like to know that you're safe." Her father reasoned, his hands on her shoulders and his eyes looking directly at hers. "She has worried enough and I hate to make her mourn for a husband that isn't dead, but she does not need me causing anymore chaos in her life. She needs her children, safe, and unharmed and back at home. Do you understand, Sansa?"

Sansa very well understood. She knew what he was saying made sense and was possibly the right decision out of many, but she felt it unfair for her and for her mother. Rickon probably didn't understand death yet. He probably thought their father was going to come back home soon. Bran, her little brother, Lord of Winterfell and a prince as well apparently, needed his mother and father more. It was hard for Sansa herself to soak in that she was a princess now with Robb's title of King in the North, and Arya was too. They were royalty, something she only dreamed of as a girl. How it came to be was beyond unfavorable. She couldn't find herself happy about it at all.

"It isn't fair." She couldn't help but say, selfishly and hopelessly. "Mother needs you. Robb needs you. I need you. We all need you, father, and you're leaving us again!"

Yelling and stomping her foot wasn't what a princess nor a lady would do. It was something Sansa Stark, his daughter who loved him, did. If she had composed herself and accepted it, she might've liked herself, but the child in her that still cried over what happened to her had refused to not put up a fight. "You have to come home! You have to come back!"

"And I will," Pulling her into a fierce hug, she wrapped her arms around her father after nearly stubbornly deciding not to. He rubbed the back of her head knowing she was going to cry without even catching sight of the tears. "It'll all be over soon enough and we'll all be back home like we once were." His promises sounded like lies that she wanted to believe despite knowing the truth. Lies were kinder than the truth was, she realized.

His large thumbs wiped the bottom of her eyes once he parted their hug just to place a kiss on her forehead. "Be strong for me, Sansa. You're such a strong girl and you've done me proud. I've never been more prouder than you than I have knowing you survived the Lannisters."

A sob choked itself out again, feeling a rush of happiness at his words and sadness all at once. Eddard comforted her until she grew strong enough to accept these turn of events and allow him to take her back to the harbor with the ships of gold and sellswords that would be coming to Winterfell with her. Aegon and Jon Connington were there to finish anything left to handle. Sansa quickly wiped any stains of tears off her face and gave Aegon a smile that he so graciously given her.

"I believe it is farewell, Lady Sansa." Aegon took her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. She felt too exhausted to blush like she wanted to and so she gave him a shy smile. The next time she would meet him, he would be king; King Aegon VI Targaryen is what he would rule as.

Sansa tried to clear her voice of its raspiness to bid him goodbye, "I hope to see you on the Iron Throne when we meet again." She dipped in a curtsy, her head lowered.

"I hope the same."

Jon loudly cleared his throat, looking rather uncomfortable. It seemed he didn't know what to say to her since he didn't like House Stark over what seemed to be for unfair reasons. He was hardly kind, mostly harsh, and watched her whenever she and Aegon so much as talked. Yet Sansa sensed that he wasn't all too happy to see her part or maybe it was because she was parting with his men.

"Safe travels, Lady Sansa." He managed to say, giving her a quick nod and averting his gaze out to the sea. Sansa only smiled, not saying anything, but giving him a nod in acceptance.

Before she walked up the gangplank, she looked around for Naran in hopes to see him. He wasn't at the harbor at all, like he didn't care to see her leave. It was easy to say that she was disappointed and that she wanted to see him. It might've sound like she wanted him to miss her.

Sansa kept going up until she reached the top of the ship, but found herself running to the deck. Where some of the Golden Company were standing, just so she could go over to the railing and meet the eyes of Naran, who stood not too far away. Her Tully eyes lit up with surprise and happiness all at once as she stared at him with his arms crossed and his eyes focused only on her. Her father smiling and gave a slight wave. The ship was starting to pull away from the dock, and she kept herself going towards the very front of the ship in efforts to delay the separation. Out of all the time she known him, Naran never looked so handsome standing there in his golden clothes with his shoulders free of slouch and his chin raised.

There was a burning sensation behind her eyes and she wasn't sure why she even wanted to cry this time. He rose his hand and waved to her, mouthing her a "goodbye" from what she could tell. Sansa wanted to be furious with him, she wanted to hate him for showing up so late, and she wanted to jump off the boat and swim back to her father and to him. Sansa watched him until the ship turned and pulled out into the blue sea straight until he was nothing but a blurred figure by the distance by her tears. The ocean breeze had blown through her red hair as she sharply inhaled.

Sansa was going to miss her father like she never missed him before.

She was going to miss Naran too.

 **...**

"How long do you think it'll take?" Amara was skinning a rabbit that Asha hunted and killed, grimacing as she did. She was never fond of hunting and nor did she like skinning an animal, but they had to eat. They had been out on the road for days, trying to go through random towns to break off any sort of set trail and were lucky to have not been cornered. The gossip around the town was that Seagard was sacked by Euron and he had men marching all over the vicinity for his niece and a foreign healer. She was sure that wanted posters would be up soon and then they'll have to disguise themselves.

"A few weeks most likely." Asha replied as she was poking the fire, trying to keep the flames going and trying to dull her annoyance with the whole situation. It must've been stressful, she took a great risk, and if Robb didn't promise her the Iron Islands, she was sure that Asha would be destroyed. She couldn't put up a fight against Euron or Victarion at this rate, and Amara felt largely to blame for that.

Using her dagger to cut the meat into pieces, she pierced through them with a stick and stuck them by the fire to cook. It felt strange to be living like how she used to all over again after growing comfortable in these foreign villages and then making a home in Wintertown. It felt like the past was steadily creeping its way back to her, and it seemed it came back in negative ways than positive ones.

"I wish…" She mumbled, halfway talking to herself than talking to Asha, "I wish I could've saved Zola."

The Ironborn girl glanced over at her, looking away from the bright flames that kept her attention for so long. "She helped me save you." Amara's head piped up, her eyes glossing with confusion. "She distracted my uncle when she saw me. It's a shame what he did… cutting out her tongue like that. I hear he does that to all his men on his ship."

It was a hard piece of information to swallow, knowing that Zola risked herself again for her. Amara chewed down on her bottom lip, her hands grabbing handfuls of her skirts as she tried not to cry. How could this happen? She was willing to sacrifice her freedom for Zola, but Zola had received the short end of the stick thrice for her. It all worked for Amara and now Zola was without a tongue and possibly without life. Euron would surely kill her if he knew she was the reason she escaped. The guilt of it all was seeping into her old wounds that never healed. It seemed as if everyone Amara wanted to protect, she had to abandoned them for her own freedom. How many more people will she let down or leave to defend for themselves when they weren't capable?

"After eating, we'll have to move again." Nodding, Amara pulled her knees to her chest to watch the fire, contemplating a few things. She wasn't sure how she was going to face Jon or Robb, telling them she had been kidnapped on her way to Winterfell that she insisted on going to by herself. She was sure the both of them would be still be furious and she couldn't blame them. She halfway didn't want to face them.

The skies were grey, fitting for her mood, and she was glad that the sun wasn't shining down on them. There were days where she longed to feel it on her skin and have warm air all around her, but the setting never seemed right. She didn't wish for a beautiful day after all the not-so beautiful events she went through. She hoped the world would keep being colored by her emotions; grey in dull sadness and a sunless sky showing that light wasn't always around. That life had been colder than it usually was.

"That book," Asha spoke to keep conversation, "what is it?"

"A medical journal." Amara answered her with a small smile, "It belonged to my mother once, she filled the first hundred pages and I tend to fill the book to completion."

"Medicinal flowers, is it? The drawings I mean."

Giving her a nod, she held the satchel close to her. "My mother was of Greenblood. She was raised in Dorne in a small, small village of people who were said to be pure of Rhoyne descent." Asha eyed her with interest, showing that she was listening intently. "She grew tired of being there, wanting to see the world, and so she traveled at the age of sixteen and found her way in Yi Ti. She met my father, who was freshly widowed at the time, and fell in love with him to the point she decided to stay. She learned the language, wanting to settle for a regular life with him, and began writing a journal of all the knowledge she knew in herbal medicine. She hoped to one day make a whole of these books so that healers would save more lives."

"What brings you here to Westeros? What made you up and decide to leave your family, your culture, all behind for here? This place isn't so special. I hardly think it is better than Yi Ti where the riches are constant and there people aren't quarreling over a piece of bacon."

The healer couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head. "I've done something I could never forgive myself for back at home, and just left for a new start. When I came here, I wasn't sure what to make of Westeros. There were so many rules, so many ways of people here. I could barely speak the language too and had trouble fitting in. I suppose I was searching for myself the way my mother was searching for a new life outside of her small community. And then I met King Robb, a young lord back then, and Jon. After meeting them, I decided to stay in the North."

"Jon, Ned Stark's bastard, right?" Her eyes narrowed some, glaring at Asha's direction, who playfully lifted up her hands. "That's what he is. You mightn't like it but that's the way Westeros is when it comes to those baseborn."

She couldn't argue with that. Amara knew what their life was like with her own eyes and heard the stories too. "Yes, him." Amara sighed, trying to push Jon away from the forefront of her thoughts. It was hard to even think of him knowing that she did something so stupid. "I grew fond of the Starks and stayed. I have a boy, not of my blood, but my boy the same that is still there today. I wanted to give him stability, and I suppose a large excuse to be by the Starks longer."

"My brother… You spoke few words of him." She smirked at that, "I'm assuming he's an ass. Most Ironborn are, especially the men. Us women have to fight twice as hard just to be a quarter as good as them in their eyes. He must think low of women, only think their cunts are the only thing good about 'em."

Amara found herself snorting at how much she described her brother down to the bone. It took everything in her to not quickly agree. Theon might not want his sister to know him like that, and so she chose to be kinder than how she felt. "He's quite smug and likes to remind people where he's from. I could never say that he was once ashamed to be a Greyjoy. He'd let the whole world know even if they hadn't cared enough." Her hands rubbed the material of the satchel, sighing somewhat. "He almost went back, back home, but I stopped him. I suppose you might feel slighted by that."

"For what?" The Iron girl questioned, "My brother wasn't welcomed. My father thought the Starks took him and made them their own. Theon was considered not a Greyjoy anymore in my father's eyes. The Starks paid the iron price for him, and so he was no longer ours." Her eyes met Amara's, "You saved him from being hurt and you've also taken time well spent for him to see his father after all these years. I'd rather Theon knew of our father of how he once was than how our lord father would've thought of him now."

Curious about something else concerning the Greyjoy siblings, she decide to go a little deeper. "I suppose you feel nervous to be meeting him after all these years?"

The girl snorted but Amara could see right through it. The way her eyes danced from one thing to another gave way to her true feelings. Asha was nervous, hardly able to set her nerves right. "I haven't seen him since he was nine, and we were once hard to split apart. I loved him then, I just don't know him now."

"I know the feeling." Amara crinkled her eyes, giving away a sad smile. "I haven't seen my brother since he was young and he's considered a mangrown now. I loved him then, I still love him now, I just don't know him anymore. The letters passed between us is not the same as the closeness we shared when we were young."

"If you could see him again, would you?

Chewing her bottom lip in thought, she shrugged her shoulders. "I don't feel worthy. I don't feel like I have the right. The difference between you and I is that Theon was taken from you, I left my brother. I ran away and left him behind because I knew the seas and the world would be too harsh for him to face. I knew he'd be safer and grow to be who he was meant to be at home. It was rough since he was alone, without family, but I know my brother could make it. I know he's strong now. I know he's stronger than me."

A breeze came, filling the quietness with its song. It eventually faded away, traveling to wherever it wanted to roam, and yet quietness hadn't returned. A sharp sound; an ear-splitting shriek that could not be imitated by man and only by arrow surrounded them.

Both girls stood, alert and ready to face whatever it was. Amara felt a touch of home when she heard it, making her heart pound in fear and nostalgia. Her eyes searched for whoever created it, and hope to hear it again. Asha, meanwhile, unsheathed her sword in preparation for an attack if there should be one.

"What was that?!" Asha inquired fiercely, her eyes observing every inch of the clearing they were in.

"It sounded like… a whistling arrow." Part of her didn't want to believe it. It had been years since she last heard one. "It is native to my home. I… I don't get why one would be used here."

"Could be one of your people, couldn't it? Who else could it be?" Agreeing with that, she wasn't sure if it was wise to look for the person or to keep themselves here. It could be something else, and Amara hardly wanted to risk running into Euron again.

Soon people jumped from the bushes in an ambush, Asha grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards her in protection. Amara pulled out her dagger to cover Asha's back and protect herself as they were surrounded by a large group of people with grey clothing with lots of fur. Some of them had wild, red hair, and others just had common colored tangled mops on their heads. They all had a weapon; a bow and arrow, an axe or a spear. It would've been stupid to fight them yet neither girl wanted to surrender.

"Wildlings." She heard Asha murmur, and Amara felt her grip on her dagger grow taut. Jon and Robb had told her about Wildlings, and she hardly ever met one. All she met were their stories but never their faces.

"It's just a bunch of little girls." One giant of a man said. He was handsome in an odd and wild way, with his red hair uncombed curls and his beard scruffy. Amara eyed him first before looking towards the girl with her arrow aimed at her. Her hair was a pure kind of red, pulled back from her face, and showing the fierceness of her blue eyes. Her lips were twisted in a curious smirk as if she wanted to see what they would do.

"Little girls with little weapons too!" She chuckled, "What ya gonna do with that little thing? Before ya swipe, ya be full of arrows!"

A dagger versus a bow wasn't a favorable fight. If this girl was good with it, Amara was sure to be pierced before she made her way over. It would take full concentration to cut the arrows before they hit her and then she'd have to fight off the rest of the Wildlings along the way. Amara liked to think herself capable enough, but not to that extent.

"What's going on? I can't see! I shot the arrow to scare them, not for us to kill them!"

The tall man looked over his shoulder, the corner of his lips tugged upward as a small person pushed their way through.

Amara felt her eyes prickling with tears and a smile dancing across her face at the sight of a brown-haired girl with her hair messy like a bird's nest. Her big, grey eyes soon were looking at her and was filled with the same surprise as Amara's own. Her hair had been chopped like a boy's and she dressed like one too. She looked like a Wildling boy with that Wolf way she always held about her.

That same little girl came sprinting forward when they saw her, crashing into her arms and making them fall on the soft grass in the process. Amara felt numb by the slight pain of her back hitting the hard floor, the happiness she felt assuaged it. Hearing her call her name liked she did what felt like forever ago, made her heart beat and ache in content. "Amara! It's you, it's really, really you!" That voice she missed filled her ears and eased her, making the tears flow from the corners and fall from the corner of her eyes down to her ears as she laid on the ground. Her arms held the small girl tightly, feeling like she would disappear and this would all be just a good dream.

Part of Amara felt all of it was too good to be true. Like she was still at Pyke, and this was all music and motions in her head to bring her good dreams from the bad reality. It stopped feeling like a dream when she felt the crook of her neck being wet by tears, and the quaking body beneath her was clinging onto her like she was feeling the same sort of hope that it was all true. The girl hardly ever cried so hard.

"Oh, how I've missed you, Arya."

* * *

 **A/N:** So many faces.

This is not the last time we see Euron though. In fact, Amara might've made things a little worse for herself.

Why does 19 pages not feel like 10k words?!


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** New chapter is here! I hope you guys enjoy it. I had fun writing it.

 **Kat** : Thanks for telling me! Fanfic was acting all sorts of trippy for me.

 **Minstorai** : The twists and surprises will never stop coming. I think the tv show might make him probably worse or on the same level as Ramsay. The books haven't really explored just how bad he could be. I think he's a bit scary than Ramsay because you already know just how sadistic and cruel he is, but you have to see a fully fleshed out Euron. Then there is the whole wizard thing going on, so what can he actually do or eventually learn is pretty scary to me. But yes, Tormund is finally here. / wipes tears )

 **LoyalAsAViking** : Haha, I'm glad you like it! Here's a new chapter for you! I hope it doesn't disappoint.

 **MarinAllKarins** : You have to stay tuned to figure out. c;

 **Lovinurbuks** : You're gonna eventually resent me for that. The cliffhangers will get worse, and then you'll hate me. Lol. Arya deserves all the love she deserves, and she's getting it. It'll be a while before we hear from Sansa again, but Robb's decision will finally be made. It won't be easy though because I like being difficult.

* * *

The hug couldn't be long enough. Arya almost forgot what being safe felt like. What it was like to not worry if she was going to die or if she was ever going to see her family again. If she wasn't sheltered by the big, grey walls of Winterfell, Arya didn't think she could ever rest easy. How could she? After being surrounded by lions and then out in the wildness that was the world. The world that was cruel to children and unfair to those who were good; only helping evil from what she could understand. How does one feel safe anymore?

But right here, in Amara's arms right now, she felt warm and secure. All the worries that burned themselves inside her head, lingering on her skin in forms of dirt and cuts. Everything seemed to wash away like when the rain would fall and cleanse the earth making it smell new. In this embrace, she felt Amara's soft skin. She gave her a gentle squeeze that urged her to nestle deeper in the warmth. It all came to feel like a warm bath, especially since the smell of the sea still lingered on the healer's skin and clothes. When she finally pulled away, letting her grey eyes meet Amara's again, she couldn't help but return the smile that she gave her. She used her wrist to wipe the stray tears that continued to stain her unclean face.

Her head slowly turned to her left, eyes gazing to look at the Wildling friends she made along her journey to her brothers and parents. They stood awkwardly, spears and other weapons in their hands, unsure of what to make of the situation. They were patiently waiting for an explanation from her yet did not want to ruin this reunion for her all the same. They were usually unruly and barged into conversations or situations, but they were well-mannered for her.

"Who is this?" The tall girl who traveled with Amara said, her eyes watching the two of them with obvious confusion. Arya had no idea who she was and why Amara was traveling with her. She still wasn't sure what Amara was doing out here on her own and not with her brothers and mother during their campaign in the Westerlands. It seemed odd for Amara to be separated this greatly from Jon, at least that's what Arya thought.

For a moment, Amara seemed hesitant. Her fingers were combing themselves through Arya's dirty hair out of affection. Even though Arya hated when people would touch her hair, she came to enjoy Amara's way of doing it. Almost in the same way she enjoyed when Jon tousled it. Yet, she found herself wincing once Amara's fingers caught itself in some of the tangles. Instead of forcing her fingers to comb the tangle out, the healer eased her fingers through gently without pulling her hair.

"Her name is Arya," Amara smiled as she spoke her name, "Arya Stark. King Robb's youngest sister."

It felt so strange, almost like a unexpected dream to hear the title of King being next to Robb's name. Her serious yet fun brother a king? Robb was a good lord and followed after their father almost like he was a Tully replica of him. And to hear king before his name now? Arya thought it silly almost more than she thought it strange.

"And just who are you?" Growing impatient by not knowing who this woman was that traveled with Amara, she decided to ask for her name just as she asked for hers. Added was another question to sate her curiosity, "What are you two even doing out here anyway?"

Amara and Asha exchanged a quick glance that resulted in Amara giving her a nod. Asha cleared her throat, eyes watching the Wildlings suspiciously for a few minutes. She smoothed out the slouch of her shoulders and standing almost lord-like. Not like a lady, but like a lord. "Asha Greyjoy, princess." There was a twinge of a smirk on her lips and Arya found herself cringing at the "princess" title.

Arya hardly ever wanted to be a lady and now to be a princess? It made her stomach churn. "We were traveling to the Westerlands to meet with your brothers." Amara answered her last question.

Perplexed, the young girl knitted her brows together with her frown. "Asha Greyjoy? Is she related to Theon or something? And what do you mean you're meeting up with them? Why aren't you already with them? Did something happen?"

It might've been too much, asking so many questions without letting Amara answer them. She always did that, especially when she was nervous. Why should she feel nervous now? Maybe because something didn't exactly feel right. "She is." Her brows rose in surprise, "She's his sister." His sister? Arya glanced back at Asha observantly, now seeing the physical similarities of the two. They didn't look exactly alike, but pieces of them were in each other's appearance. "She helped rescue me." Her head whipped back to the healer, who she now noticed look every bit as tired.

There was shadows of what would soon be dark circles around her eyes if she hadn't slept right. Not only that, Arya could plainly see just how thin Amara had gotten. The woman was never full-figured or anything. Arya could hardly remember what the shape of her body because of the black robes that she always wore. Whenever Amara dressed up in the pretty clothes her mother would demand she wear, she always seemed slender and small-pact. But now? She hardly looked the slightest bit of healthy.

She was even wearing strange clothing, Arya noticed as her eyes roamed up and down her figure with worry and confusion. She wore this strange, plain grey dress that seemed like it didn't have much life in it. It was the kind of dull grey with yellow at the hems that were obviously dirty. Amara looked like she was traveling for a while herself.

Her eyes met with Amara's again, "Rescued you? What happened?"

Amara didn't seem like she wanted to talk about it. In fact, she looked rather uneasy. Her hand raised to rub the side of her head. She had been through something, Arya could tell. It must have been something painful because whenever Amara wanted to hide something from her, there was a strange wall made in her eyes. Like she was pushing Arya away from searching them for any insight. "I was taken by Euron Greyjoy," She said with half a sigh, sounding like she caved in. "He claims himself King of the Isles and the North as well."

Arya frown instantly at that, scoffing at how this man could claim her country. "He wishes!" The girl spat, "Why did he take you? Are you alright?" Her eyes then flicked towards Asha, "Why would she help rescue you from him? He's her family most likely. She might be tricking you!"

"Calm yourself, little one." Asha told her with warning, "If I was helping my uncle, you think she would be here? We'd be back at Pyke, wouldn't we?"

"I'm not little!" She yelled in frustration.

"Well, you aren't big either." Asha replied with a smirk, "You've got spirit though, I like that."

Feeling some pride in the midst of her anger and caution, Arya forced her eyes away. "Shut up." She couldn't help but mumble as Amara was chuckling at the back and forth between them. "Anyway, why did he take you?"

"It doesn't matter." Arya opened her mouth to protest yet stopped herself. Amara had questions of her own. Obvious ones, ones that Arya knew she had to explain. She would pry later on why Euron Greyjoy had interest in Amara. This wouldn't be forgotten. "And why are _you_ out here?" Amara briefly looked around them, "With Wildlings, no less."

Before she could tell her not to call them that, one already spoke. She knew exactly who would get so antsy about being called that too. "We're not Wildlings, Southerner." Her grey eyes looked over at him, mouthing words for him to calm himself. He saw her and looked back at Amara, trying his best not to be so angry about what was deemed an insult to them. "We're Free Folk."

She watched for Amara's reaction, seeing as just like Arya she only knew of what she was told. Her father called him Wildlings and so did many others just the same. They had gotten angry with her too when she called them that. They soon taught her about them instead of letting her remain ignorant. Even Amara looked embarrassed, somewhat ashamed of her ignorance. So she gave an apologetic bow of her head, "My apologies."

Arya smiled at how confused he was by her apology since he was clearly not expecting it. Most people didn't treat the Free Folk like the humans they were. They think of them humans, that's why they were called Wildlings. Most people in Westeros hated them, for some reason or another; experiences or rumors. Arya found her hate for people in Westeros far greater than she had them for the Free Folk. They were the ones who saved her from a group of hounds and some men she recognized to be from Dreadfort. When a person South of the Wall was kind to them, they were unsure of whether the kindness was genuine. Kindness was usually said out of fear or even out of ulterior motives.

"That's Tormund, he's a bit rough 'round the edges." Arya introduced him, "But he's alright."

"Alright?" Tormund repeated incredulously, snorting after he did. "The girl says I'm alright, but I was more than alright when it came to pickin' your scrawny butt up and savin' you."

"She's only playin'." That was Ygritte. Arya liked her just as much as she liked Tormund. Ygritte was the one to help her make her bow and even helped her with her aim some. She also didn't hold back with her thoughts and feelings. She didn't sugarcoat things because she was a child. Ygritte just told her like it was without a blink of her eye. Not only that, Arya found her humorous. They shared the same kind of humor and often had fun pissing the rest of the group off. "No need to get yourself so pissy."

With a smile, she rolled her eyes as she fixated her attention back to Amara. "Tormund is a good person, really." Arya tried to fix it, seeing him smile at that from the corner of her eyes. "Good as good can get for a Free Folk." The rest of the group laugh as he immediately frowned, "He saved me once and he always reminds me of it."

The healer gave him a small smile and a respectful nod, "Nice to meet you, Tormund. I'm Amara, a healer and a friend of Arya's. I'm grateful that you kept her safe. Only the Gods know just how worried everyone was about her." She slowly turned to look at Arya, "Jon was especially worried."

That made her happy. Arya and Jon were closest to each other, and she missed him the most after their father. As she traveled, meeting people low and highborn alike, her mind always wondered how he was doing. She also thought to pray that she would never hear news of him falling battle. The last time she could recall hearing anything about Jon was from the mouth of Lord Tywin Lannister during her rather short stay in Harrenhal.

She overheard him talk about how Jon was the one to defeat Jaime Lannister, and Arya had been ever so proud of him. She kept trying to imagine how the battle went. How Jaime Lannister's face looked when Jon held his sword to him as made him kneel down in dirt in his shiny, gold armor. Jon must've looked like how stories paint their heros and warriors. She wished she was there to see it.

Not only was Tywin so blustered about that, he was twice as much after being outwitted by Robb and Jon. And to hear Ser Gregor and Amory Lorch were taken to Dorne and killed brought her satisfaction after she met them herself. Despite how furious he was to be outwitted, he spoke words of praise about Jon and Robb, together and separately.

"They were going to take me to Riverrun." Sighing, she scratched the side of her head, "They were going to ask Robb for help."

"Help for what?" Amara asked, her eyes looking away from Arya and at the Free Folk. Arya could tell that she was thinking, and she fought the same when they first suggested it. What could Robb have that they would want or what could Robb give them? But most of all, how did they escape the Night's Watch?

"Our King needs more men." Ygritte decidedly spoke up, "There be a battle coming and all the men we can get would sure be nice."

They wanted sanctuary here beyond the Wall because they didn't have the manpower to fight the White Walkers and the Wights on their own. At least, that's what they told her and what she heard. Arya would cover her ears as they sat around fires telling their stories. She thought them to be scary lies reminiscent to stories Old Nan use to tell them. Their stories of what they said to be experiences made it hard for her to sleep at night. They did a good job scaring her and often her doubting that they were just stories.

What if they were telling the truth? Their faces were always grim when they talked about the White Walkers. They were even more grim when they mentioned the love ones they supposedly lost to the likes of them. Since she never seen any for herself, she couldn't say that it was the truth. She couldn't tell Amara that White Walkers or Wights were real.

"You… You took Castle Black?" Amara blinked in surprise, Tormund grinned widely at her shock.

"'Course we did." Tormund kept bragging about the Battle of Castle black. He claimed to have smashed the heads of many of the "crows" that stood between them and their freedom. Mance Rayder seemed to still be there from Arya's knowledge. "Those little crows couldn't stop us, especially with there being so few of 'em to begin with."

The shock hadn't washed away, it stayed on Amara's face. She looked away from Tormund and stared at the ground with her face etched in thought. "The baby ones and the old ones were killed if they wanted to put up a fight. We have a few of them hostage, we couldn't kill 'em all like we wanted to. Mance said they might be of some use to us."

"Here's one of them." Ygritte walked a few steps away and grabbed the tall and fat one, who Arya thought was smart and funny. He always told her stories and taught her things whenever nobody was around. If they caught him, they would hit him. They thought he was bothering her and that he may have some of strange liking for little girls. "Claims his daddy is some lord, and we'll think he'd pay nicely for his ol' fat, little baby crow."

"I-I didn't say he'd pay." He reasoned, "In fact, he'll probably be happier if you kill me instead." Lowering his head, he had a hard time staying knelt down without cowering in fear.

"Either way," Tormund made both girls focus on him instead. "The long night is comin' and the dead are comin' with it."

 **...**

His feet were running as fast as they possibly could, his heart beat going the same rhythm as his footfalls. Jon was covered in blood, it was painted across his face and all over his armor. The sword of his blade that he was having trouble sheathing due to his trembling hands kept shaking like he was going to drop it at any minute. When he heard them scream for Robb's name, knowing that he must've fallen or gotten seriously injured, he had to hurry himself over. He couldn't let Robb die. He blamed himself for not being there to protect him, for relying on others as they stormed through the Crag. The battlefield was hard to weave through, and he ended up shoving enemies out of his way without care.

As he was nearing Robb, he decidedly slashed his way through. His eyes were blinded by tears of what he wasn't sure of sadness or guilt. Not only did he let Arya become lost, Amara was too, and now he was going to lose Robb. Losing Robb meant that Jon failed to protect his family. As soon as he neared Robb's body, seeing people guarding around him to protect him from being hit again by any enemy soldier. Jon sighed in relief to see that he was still breathing. He eased his way through the wall of allies and picked Robb's head from off the grass, he removed the arrow first with a slow pull before yanking the entirety of the arrow head out of him before pressing his hand to the wound to stop it from bleeding. He had nothing to put over it, and so the red liquid slid down between his fingers and down the back of his hand.

"We need to get him out of here!" He yelled, "He's losing far too much blood!" His other hand gently patted against Robb's face, trying to keep him awake. "Robb! Robb! Listen to me, Robb! You have to hang on, you hear me?! Robb!"

His eyes were halfway open and had a gloss of a blur, making it obvious that he hardly knew what was happening. His eyes squinted as a grimaced, jaw clenching tight as he writhed. The arrow pierced into him deep, he was sure that the pain was excruciating. "You have to keep moving, Jon… Leave me here and take the Crag…. We're nearly… We're nearly done."

"Have you lost your mind?! It's all over if you're dead!"

"No…" Heaving now, like breathing was the most hardest and painful task in the world, he shook his head vigorously. "No, it's not. I made you prince for a reason, Jon. If I should fail—"

"You won't fail and you won't die." Jon wouldn't allow him to accept death, not after all they had done to get here. If Robb were to die from an arrow wound, what would he say? What would he say to Lady Stark who looked to him to protect him, which was the only thing she expected from him. What would he say to Lord Edmure? What would he say to Bran, Rickon, Arya and Sansa? That he let their brother die. And to Amara? Robb and Amara might've left things on a bad note, but that was still her friend. So what could he tell them? That he left his side for a few minutes…? He couldn't do it.

Lord Umber made his way over quickly, picking up Robb since he had the strength to. Jon sighed in relief as Umber gave him a nod, telling him that he would take care of Robb. "Kill them all while I get the king a healer's hands."

The setting seemed right. The sudden downpour of rain that fell down chaotically and washed his face of the sweat, blood, and dirt. The wall that protected Robb was still there, protecting Jon now as they gave him time to gather himself. Through his eyelashes that had rain droplets clinging onto them, he saw Smalljon, Dara, Eddard, Torrhen, and even Theon. All of them defended him with their swords, spear, and bow and arrows. The gusting wind blew the rain from his eyes, making his skin feel cold as ice from the rain. The weight of the fight was on his shoulders now and he couldn't spend it kneeling at the spot Robb once lied at.

He had to win this for Robb, whether he lived or died. He couldn't fail him now, and he couldn't face him if he lived to tell him that he just gave up. The morale of their men would soon loose its high, they fought hard in anger now but it would soon diminish out of fear that their kind might die. He couldn't let the happen. He had to fight in Robb's place now. He had to give them hope, keep their spirits going.

His eyes caught sight of Robb's helm, he picked it up and stared at it as he remembered it adorning his brother's head during their first taste of war during the Battle of Whispering Woods. _'For Robb.'_ He told himself, seeing that as the only encouragement for him fight twice as hard. He was without his own since he felt a helm suffocating, but since this was more than just him, he slipped Robb's helm on without caring of his discomfort. With deep breaths, Jon elevated himself to his feet with his sword in his hand.

He had to take the Crag.

The rain remained heavy, almost as heavy as how his sword felt in his hand now. "Spread out." He said to the group that stood before him. "Theon, get yourself into one of the towers so you have better aim for your arrows. It is too dangerous for you to be in the center of the castle." Theon turned to look at him, looking every bit surprised.

"Alright, _my prince_." Jon had to wonder if humor was what took the edges off Theon. Now wasn't certainly time for teasing and jokes, but it did comfort him a little. He even gave a small smile as he saw Theon running off, ducking swords that swung and slipping through the fighting men.

"Dara, Eddard, Torrhen." He called the three of them, and they looked over at him from over their shoulders.

"Yes, my prince?" Dara replied eagerly, wanting to be given a task most likely. The three of them looked like their were surging with energy, and Jon knew exactly what order he wanted to give them.

"I need you, Torrhen, and Eddard to not let anymore men through the gate. Stop any men that tries to enter and tell our men surrounding it to help you."

"As you command it." Torrhen nodded, the trio running their way over and knocking any foe that came between them and Crag's gate. Jon looked to Dacey and Smalljon, who were waiting for their own orders. "I want you to stand outside Robb's tent with Greatjon and protect him. I trust you'll both do anything in your power to make sure he remains safe. Greatjon is strong, I know, but he can't do it all on his own."

Dacey didn't seem halfway willing, "But what of you? Do you mean to fight alone?"

Jon nodded, not a single trace of regret on his face. "The battle is nearly done, Lady Dacey. Once we defeat Ser Rolph Spicer, we're done."

"We'll leave it up to you." Smalljon then turned to Dacey, "C'mon, our prince gave us orders and we must fulfill them."

Dacey lingered for a bit, giving him an unsure look. It was obvious she wasn't too fond of his plan and Jon smiled at her obvious worry. "Your Prince gave you an order, Lady Dacey."

Her face crumpled into a half-smile before she gave a deep bow. Smalljon and Dacey ran towards their horses, mounting them to run to the camp to protect Robb. He watched them until they became smaller and smaller before looking back at the castle. With a deep breath, he marched his way back to the castle. He shot forward to some stray men, his strikes fast and nearly elegant as they barely had time to catch the silver blur that was his blade before they fell to the ground dead.

It took some running and dodging to end up back inside the castle unscatched, and when he saw Ser Rolph plunging his blade straight through the stomach of one of their men, Jon set his jaw.

"Ser Rolph, I'm your opponent now."

The castellan turned to look at him, his dark eyes glittered with excitement. "That bold are you? You must've been the bastard to defeat the Kingslayer. You might've taken him down boy, but that doesn't mean you'll take me as well."

With a cry, Ser Rolph launched himself at Jon, and swung his sword down in a wide slash. Jon dodged to the side in one fluid move. By the time Ser Rolph swiveled in his direction, eyes ablaze and the rain streaming down his face, Jon sword swung his sword as fast to make it a silver blur, letting the blades clash like thunder since the castellan was swift enough to raise his sword in defense in time. Ser Rolph had enough strength to push Jon back, making him take a few steps than fumble since he fortified himself better from the frequent battles. He then shuffled to the side and awaiting for Ser Rolph to attack again.

"Ser Rolph, I'm your opponent now."

The castellan turned to look at him, his dark eyes glittered with excitement. "That bold are you? You must've been the bastard to defeat the Kingslayer. You might've taken him down boy, but that doesn't mean you'll take me as well."

With a cry, Ser Rolph launched himself at Jon, and swung his sword down in a wide slash. Jon dodged to the side in one fluid move. By the time Ser Rolph swiveled in his direction, eyes ablaze and the rain streaming down his face, Jon sword swung his sword as fast to make it a silver blur, letting the blades clash like thunder since the castellan was swift enough to raise his sword in defense. Ser Rolph had enough strength to push Jon back, his fist slamming into his cheek to make him take a few steps. His face felt like it was on fire from the force of the knight's blow, but he managed to not fumble since he fortified himself better from the frequent battles.

Now it was his turn to attack, Jon's steel shimmered, leaping through the air and snaking its way towards Ser Rolph's defenses. Unfortunately, blocked and deflected every single blow and not giving Jon a chance to land at least one strike. That is, until he managed to land one. "Guh!" He gasped as the very tip of Jon's blade slid across Ser Rolph's cheek and thin line of blood trickled down the man's face.

That only incited the knight to come back with a deadly vengeance. Ser Rolph was much faster ( for his age especially ) than he was before. "Gnn…" Jon gritted his teeth as he did his best to keep up with the blows, but he seemed slower now. Tired. His arms felt weak from meeting every heavy blow that came at him.

"Is this all you can do, bastard prince?" If you listened hard enough, you would've thought that Ser Rolph was disappointed.

His left arm was struck, and he couldn't hardly let out an agonized sound since he was grounding his teeth with his hand clasped over the deep, bleeding cut. His breaths were labored, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to push the pain in the back of his mind, trying to make himself numb to it. At least it wasn't his sword arm, that would've been much worse.

Pushing through the pain, he ran toward Ser Rolph with his sword held high and defiance in his eyes. The thought of Robb dying was what was pushing him, and this was a mere cut. He couldn't let this simple wound be the thing to end him. Jon figured if he was going to die out here then he wanted to die with honor.

"What a reckless fool." The knight looked as if he had no trouble in this fight. He batted Jon's attacks aside as if he were swatting flies with a look of calm.

Raising his sword high again, he aimed to cut down at Ser Rolph's shoulder, but a sword had flicked upward and met with his. Seeing another opening, Jon drove his foot forward and slammed it into Ser Rolph's stomach, making him hunch over as he felt the air leave him with a sputter of coughs.

A wet sound of a blade passing through flesh rung in the air, blood splattering to the ground along with it. With a grunt from slash that seemed to act like a mere scratch to Ser Rolph, he swung his sword back at Jon, just to cut air since he fluidly jumped away from the attack. With his sword glistening with gore, he continued his assault now that Ser Rolph was weakened.

The castle courtyard was spilled with the knight's blood, whose eyes were wide with pain and his teeth grounded. He tried desperately to match Jon's attacks. But this rush of adrenaline and thoughts of how important it was to win this battle, made him much too fast for the castellan to land a single hit.

As the battle of blades continued, Ser Rolph's armor was covered in blood. "Hgh!" With his face contorted into a look of pain, he staggered a step back. "You will not get the better of me, bastard!" He said as he dropped the ground. He spat out a copious amount of blood, holding the wound that bled profusely from his stomach. He lost, Jon could see it from the way his arms lost all tension and how wobbly his bent knee was. He was weak, he had lost, but he much too proud to admit it.

"I won't kill you, my lord father wouldn't approve it. Instead, I'll be taking you prisoner like we've taken your Lord Westerling." Jon slid his sword back in its sheath, his eyes losing the desire for battle since he won. He had nothing else to say as men came rushing forward, swords drawn at Ser Rolph. "Take him." He ordered as he left the castle by walking under the portcullis, holding his wounded arm and trying to catch his breath still.

"Did we do it?" Jon heard one soldier say as he walked down the battlefield, "Did we win?"

Soon the news spread of Jon taking capture of Ser Rolph like wildfire. At last, a grin of victory took over Jon's face, his heart still racing. "The battle is over!" He roared to them, "The Crag is ours!"

The Northerners, Rivermen, and Dornishmen, had all surrounded him with murmurs of excitement. "My prince, you fought amazingly!"

Other words of praise were said, making him lower his head sheepishly with a smile. He would never get use to the eyes that looked at him with pride and admiration. He wasn't used to it when he defeated Jaime Lannister, and he isn't used to it now. Out of the crowd, he had saw Ser Brynden who approached him with arms crossed. Jon awaited to hear an insult since he was used to it by now.

The man appraised him, eyeing him with an unreadable look in his eye. He then glanced towards Ser Rolph that was being dragged away by a couple of Dornishmen. "It was an honor to fight under you." Jon looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. "You are a true prince." To see him and hear him speak with respect and adulation didn't seem real.

His hand was covered in blood and the wound seemed to pulsate as the blood kept oozing out. The cut was much deeper than he thought it was, he would probably need several stitches. "The prince is wounded!" Ser Brynden said, "Take him to the medic tents. He must be treated immediately."

"No, I have to see Robb first." He shook his head, he could manage until he knew Robb was going to live. "After that, I'll get this thing looked at."

"You're losing too much blood." Theon stepped in, surprisingly looking worried. "You need that thing stitched, Stark. Robb doesn't need to see you like that. It won't do either one of you good."

He had a point, Jon sighed in defeat. He nodded, "Fine. I'll go, but I demand reports told me of Robb's condition."

"We'll let you know." The Greyjoy seemed bearable for once, and Jon found himself still in disbelief that they were getting along right now. There were no smarmy remarks or anything to lead them in an argument. He seemed completely serious.

"I'll escort the prince." Eddard Karstark offered, "When you're ready."

"I'm fine." He insisted, not liking the way they seemed to be so worried over him. It was just a minor wound on his arm, it wasn't like he was going to die from this. Robb deserved all their attention now, they weren't even sure if he would make it through. That arrow that pierced him went into him deep to a frightening degree. Part of Jon wished he didn't rip it out from the way Robb bled when he removed it, and he hoped he didn't make things worse for him by doing that.

The sudden pang sprang to the side of his head, making his mouth twist in a grimace and take his bloody hand to his head. Everything was starting to merge together in a blur and start to spin. The next thing he knew, everything had suddenly gone black and he felt like he was falling. The wind that pushed against his face made it hard from him to breathe as he found himself hitting on the hard ground with a thud after what felt like an eternity.

 **...**

Her eyes quickly skimmed over the letters, reading every word as quickly as her eyes could manage. The first letter she received was written by her uncle, Ser Brynden, telling her that her son and Jon Snow—Stark now since she tended to forget—had successfully taken the Crag and capture Ser Rolph Spicer. The worst news was that Robb was wounded, not fatally, but wounded and being taken cared of by a healer. Her heart was still beating quick with worry, afraid that he might've been fine or now but who knows in a few days time? What if he got himself an infection? And here she was, far away from him in Highgarden. She was sitting in a guest apartment, courtesy of Lord Mace Tyrell. She could not see him well with her own eyes nor be at his side. Even with these words to tell him he was fine, Catelyn hardly wanted to take the chance to believe what was told of her.

If it weren't for the second letter, Catelyn probably would've rode to the Westerlands to be with her son. The second letter was the greatest news that she heard in such a long time. Sansa would be returning back to Winterfell with a large number of men from the Golden Company to accompany her and protect her as well as her boys and their home of Winterfell. The mixed news of letters had her clutching them to her chest as she tried to keep herself together and not will herself to burst out in tears. She had to be strong for her children as their mother and for Ned. She couldn't just fall apart at the seams like this no matter how pained and tired she was.

"Is there something wrong, Lady Stark?" Brienne questioned with worry lines on her face as she watched the woman from the door. Catelyn shook her head, a soft smile on her face.

"My son has been injured during the battle of the Crag. They say he will live but I am his mother and I worry. My daughter, my little Sansa, will be returning to Winterfell unharmed and with protection. She's been across the sea for a few month's time and now she'll be safe at home where she is meant to be." The thought of Arya came across her mind and the smile quickly began to wither away. If only Arya was coming back home with Sansa. That's how it was supposed to be. They left together and they should've been returning home together with their father.

Brienne bowed her head, deciding to react to the happier news. "I am glad to hear that the Lady Sansa is returning home and King Robb will still live."

"Thank you." Standing on her feet, she placed the letters down on her desk and let out a long, much needed sigh. She then glanced at Brienne briefly before looking absently back at the writing desk, "Lord Tyrell has not sent for me, has he?"

"No, my lady." Catelyn nodded stiffly upon the answer, now wringing her hands together anxiously. Ever since she proposed a marriage between Robb and Margaery, he seemed to be taking his time thinking on the answer. Probably not sparing Lady Olenna's judgement of the situation either. She also couldn't fault them, they would have to take time in this decision for propriety reasons. If they hurried up and agreed then it would seem like they were selling their daughter to whomever since she was freshly widowed. That would ruin Margaery's reputation in the process.

At least, that's what she thought about it and what she would do the same if it were her own children in this situation. Sansa was betrothed to Joffrey, but it was just a betrothal. There was also a good amount of time between to allow her to be betrothed again. Catelyn was even more sure that Sansa might've not want to rush into marriage again after all this. Her daughter could not blame for those thoughts. The next time they chose a man for Sansa to marry, Catelyn would make sure that he was a good and kind man that was given her nothing but love and care. Sansa did not need to be a political bargain and suffer from dealing a hand as worse as "King" Joffrey.

"I do have other news to tell you." Catelyn keened her ears, the look on her face to give Brienne an understanding that she was indeed listening. "They say a friend of yours, Littlefinger, will be arriving in Highgarden soon." Brienne reported.

"Petyr? Why would he be coming to Highgarden?" Catelyn furrowed her brows, her eyes looking around the room in thought. He was just with them in Bitterbridge not too long ago, and now he was coming to Highgarden? The first thought that came to mind was that it obviously had to do with King's Landing, and how he still sits at the council. They might've sent him to come here, but for what? She would have to find out before he arrived. Something kept telling her that this information could not be left unscouted.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the knock on her door, her eyes looked to Brienne as she gave her a nod. Brienne had opened the door, her eyes roaming up and down the figure before glancing back at Catelyn. "It is the Lady Margaery, Lady Stark."

"May I come in?" Catelyn smoothed out her dress, trying to be much more presentable and fixed the look of a grieving widow and worried mother away. It would never leave, she knew that, but the least she could do was try and not trouble Margaery. The girl would undoubtedly look at her with pity and try to find comforting words whilst feeling awkward. The last thing Catelyn needed was to make the young girl feel uncomfortable in her presence.

"You may."

Brienne moved away from the door, letting the young brunette walk in. Her brown hair had swayed with her movements, slipping off her shoulders with their lazy ringlets. Catelyn was sure that Robb would find her pretty as she did, and may think to love his wife if Margaery was the one he would wed. She was a sweet girl, Catelyn thought. And Robb was deserving of someone who would take care of him and fit to be a queen all at once.

"I wanted to see how you were." The smile on her face was farouche and pleasant, her eyes glancing around the room. "I understand you are still grieving for your late lord husband, Lady Stark, but must you stay in such a dark room? You should come with me and enjoy the gardens for tea. You deserve to at least feel the sun."

Catelyn found herself chuckling, amused by the request. "That would be lovely." As soon as she was about to walk her way over, Margaery had quickly walked over and loosely linked their arms to her surprise. Her eagerness was surprising, but she couldn't say it was unwelcomed. The two of them had left the room with Brienne following a comfortable distance behind.

"Another reason I wanted to walk with you, my lady, is because I wanted to hear about your son." The red-haired woman glanced at the girl from the corner of her eyes, a look of thought on her face. She wondered if it was her own curiosity or of Lady Olenna's. It might've been wrong to overanalyze since any girl would be curious of the man she was supposed to marry. The only way Margaery could learn of Robb was either through the mother who birthed him or the rumors that were spilled by the lips of lords and ladies alike that never even met him.

Her eyes soon looked ahead of him, "My son is a very honorable and sweet boy—Well, he is no boy now, but a mangrown and a king. He takes after much of his father, but Robb is much more lively than Ned ever was. He's good to the smallfork and his lords and ladies alike. It was never his intention to become King in the North in the first place, but they respect him so much that they made him one."

Margaery was hanging onto every word, her blue eyes studying Lady Catelyn's face with a crescent shape of her lips. "I heard he is kind from many people." She commented in a nearly timid manner, "I also heard he is handsome. The women hold much ardor for him from what I hear."

"I'm his mother, so of course I believe my son to be handsome." The Little Rose laughed at that. Catelyn smiled at the sweet sound of the girl's laughter, hoping that she would hear more of it if she were to wed her son.

"I also heard he was once promise to one of Walder Frey's daughters. If you were to break the engagement, would he be upset? Has he met one of them and took a liking to them?" Catelyn knew a question of this nature would wisp its way to her, and she had prepared herself for it.

The garden was now before them since it never was too far from the castle. Catelyn could smell the dewy grass and the overwhelming fragrance of fresh flowers that were methodically all over the place. Her eyes scanned around, catching sight of trees that grew fruit that seemed ripe for the taking. The apples were a pure red and unblemished that made them all the more tempting. There was a small white and round table that the servants were now resting a pot of tea on since teacups with their tea plates were already placed. There was even a plate of slices of apples and other fruits for them to enjoy.

For some reason, Catelyn thought that Amara had fit this setting. The way the girl love flowers, she deserved to be a warm place where they grew nonstop. She probably wouldn't have need for the heavy black robes she wore and would dress like a lady as she should. With a cup of tea in hand, she would probably live a life that was meant to and rest her young heart from the rough occupation of being a healer. The girl was still in her thoughts heavily and would be until Catelyn heard her found and alive. Since she hadn't heard news of it, she could only assume that she was still missing. Catelyn prayed to the Seven that Amara still breathed life.

Margaery sat after she did, the both of them settling as Catelyn glanced at the plate of fruit. She opted to take a sip of the tea first, and found herself liking the taste. It did not need any spoons of sugar for it was a right kind of sweet all on its own. "My son was set to be married to one of Walder Frey's daughters. Not a face seen by his eyes or name given to him. He even asked me to choose one since he didn't have the time to go meet them and pick his bride and he trusted me to pick the right one." Catelyn finally answered after some time, "He originally wanted to refuse but he had no choice if he wanted to cross the bridge."

"So if he refused then Lord Frey wouldn't let him cross?" Margaery asked a took a piece of an apple slice, her eyes showing her complete interest on the surface. "That sounded like a hard choice for him to make."

Catelyn nodded in reply, "Though I'm sure you heard the rather… unfavorable rumors about him and his children."

"Everyone has." Even the reach had ill views of them. "So I suppose that would mean that I am much more favorable?"

Of that, Catelyn was unsure. Margaery might be beautiful and intelligent, but Robb wanted a marriage built on love, she knew that. He was a naïve boy for that dream of his and as much as Catelyn wanted to tell him that it was unlikely, she could never bring herself to say it. She could only hope that Robb would find that happiness and love later on like she and his father had. He wouldn't be happy at first, but he might give it a chance with a little push. He said yes in the letter he messaged back; whether that meant he would try or he wanted to hurry with the Tyrell alliance was unclear.

"No, he wrote me that he finds the match favorable. He believes he can trust the Tyrells more than he can trust the Freys. He also believes my judgement of you."

"Oh?" The girl piped up that, interested on what she said about her. "Does that mean you like me, Lady Stark?"

The woman brought the teacup to her lips, her eyes holding the smile her lips did not. "We would not be sitting here having tea if I did not like you, Lady Margaery."

 **...**

If someone would've told Amara that she would be heading to the Westerlands with Arya, Asha Greyjoy, and a group of Free Folk, she would've deemed them insane. Not to mention, they had hostages of Night's Watchmen with them that made the situation even more bizarre. Amara would occasionally glance back at them, seeing the men dressed in black with their black furs. She wanted to help them but that meant upsetting the Free Folk in the process. 'That could've been Jon,' She kept thinking. Would he have met the same fate as them? Would things have changed if he went to the Wall like he planned? What if he would've succeeded in defeating them? He also could have died or been their hostages if they were still successful.

Amara decided not to think too much about it. It didn't serve any purpose to since Jon was with Robb now, fighting in this war she wished never happened. The least she could do what not think so negatively. Why upset herself and add some bad luck by praying he was unharmed and still with the living. "We should be there at least in a fortnight if we take little rests." Amara announced to them, and she could hear groans along with it. They had taken a lot of stops; for hunting and drinking, and Amara wished they would find a river soon so that she could take a much needed bath.

"I'm tired of walking." Arya groaned, rubbing his shoulder and winding it to ease the obviously sore muscle. "I wish we had horses to ride."

"If we happen to see a horse, I'm gonna cut it, gut it, and cook it. If it gets too cold, you can sleep in it." Amara cringed slightly at the idea, but she understood it. Sometimes the nights were too cold and had them shivering to the point their teeth would chatter. If it got worse than someone might get sick, and she was sure that was going to happen. The idea of sleeping in a horse, however, seemed to drastic. It had to be a last resort.

"I'd rather not." Arya's face was twisted in disgust, sticking out her tongue to further prove how much she loathed the idea. "Who does that anyway?"

"When it is so cold and you have no fur or blankets, that's the best thing you can do." Ygritte explained, "It smells Gods-awful, but you have no choice if you want to live."

Amara knew that Winter was harsh for the North. The way the Northerners would speak about it reminded her of the bad Winters of her own home. When she heard people speak of the last Winter, they said it like they were reliving a horrendous nightmare. Tormund himself said this Winter would be long and unkind, which had her worried for the desperate things people would have to do in order to stay warm as well as stay alive.

"You still never explained to me what happened at Pyke." Arya brought it up, her voice low to keep the conversation between the two of them. Asha wasn't too far from them, but she wasn't close enough to exactly join or even hear their conversation if they spoke low enough. "Why did Euron Greyjoy take you?"

She couldn't hide it forever as much as she wanted to. The main thing Amara wanted to do concerning the situation was to pretend it never even happened. She wanted to forget Euron Greyjoy like he was some horrible, fleeting memory. She wanted to claim him dead already since she couldn't fathom how he still lived after all he does. Her mind wouldn't let her though. The need of revenge wouldn't let her either. She'd never be able to erase the image of Zola's tongue sitting in the bowl of oranges. She couldn't forgive herself for letting her stay with Euron after she sacrificed herself twice for her sake.

"I was going to go back to Winterfell to see Austin and the boys." She began, her eyes mindlessly staring ahead of them without looking at anything in particular. Even after she went through, she still couldn't see Austin. She missed him so much. What would she give to see his smile and to hear him call her mother? She'd give anything. "I went to Seagard to rest after riding for a couple days straight and that's when Euron Greyjoy and I crossed paths again."

"Again?" Arya rose a brow, "So you've met him before?"

"I did." Amara closed her eyes briefly, shaking away the memory of how she foolishly got herself tangled up with him. How she could've avoided all of this if she had just stuck herself with Jason Mallister. "I didn't know his name, but I knew of the pain he causes. When I was traveling to Westeros, I saw him pillaging and slaughtering villages. He even reaved one village I was staying in and I told him the next time I saw him I would kill him. Needless to say, I didn't fulfill the promise just yet."

"He had you cornered, didn't he?" Amara nodded at Arya's guess, "I doubt that'll be the last time. If he stupidly thinks he's King in the North, that means Robb and Jon will have to deal with him. Then you could do what you always wanted!"

Unsure of why Arya found herself excited over the idea of killing him, she shook her head with a rather uneasy smile. "I'm not fond of killing," The look on the girl's face made her want to laugh, "but that man deserves nothing more than death."

"Not fond of killing? Why? Because you're a healer?" Arya was a lot stronger than she realized. Death was such a scary thing, a final thing. And yet Arya didn't seem so fearful of giving it to her enemies.

"I've killed before." The first time she killed a man was when she was thirteen. She killed three others after in efforts to protect herself. Then there were several others because death was the only way to release them from the unbearable pain they were going through. "I just don't like it. It has nothing to do with me being a healer; sometimes it is the reason why I have to."

The Wolf girl merely nodded, accepting the answer as it was. "Did he… hurt you?" Her eyes were big, filled with worry and uncertainty. A woman being captured by a man? A number of things could've happened to her. Terrible things that don't go away like small cuts. They made wounds so deep that sometimes they never healed.

"Nothing that I couldn't handle. He actually wanted to marry me to his brother." Trying to give her a sincere smile, it soon crumpled to a frown as she remembered Zola's fate.

Her frown was deep, her eyebrows furrowed. "What for?! Does he know you're not highborn?"

"He knows." She answered quickly, "He planned to make me a salt-wife. A salt-wife is different; a man can have many of those, but he can only have one iron one for that is a real wife."

"If Jon knew, he'd never let that happen." Amara nearly stopped her steps, eyes swirling with curiosity and amusement. "Would Theon take one? He probably would… The lecher." Chuckling, she was sure that Theon would have several salt-wives in his lifetime. He couldn't look at one woman for long, so to be so devoted to one? Never.

"What makes you think Jon would have stopped it?" Wondering why Arya came to that conclusion, she watched the sudden rigidness in Arya's body language. She seemed as if she had said too much, which Arya was badly good at doing. She could hardly hold her tongue.

Her grey eyes met Amara's desperately trying to hold back what was viciously coming to the forefront of her mind. Did Arya know of Jon's feelings? That was the only thing that made any sense. How long did she even know if that was the case?

"You two are friends." It didn't sound genuine, much more forced than what Arya probably wanted. "He wouldn't let his friend be forced to marry some stupid Greyjoy. He cares about you, a lot."

"And how do you know that, Arya?"

With a huff, she behaved rather dismissively. "I know because…I just do!"

"I know you're hiding something from me." A smirk appeared at how scared Arya suddenly looked; bug-eyed and nervous. "But I won't pry." The girl exhaled like she was holding her breath, relieved more than she should've looked if she wanted to not look guilty. She was too honest and too open, which Amara loved about her. She always let her feelings known and it was clear that she was protecting Jon right now.

Tormund had suddenly increased his steps, walking ahead of them now. Arya had jogged her way up to him, striking a conversation with him. The healer watched the way Arya seemed so comfortable around him, laughing at whatever he was saying to her and then threatening in a playful manner the next minute. Amara smiled, happy to know that Arya had found some happiness these past months she been astray from her family. She wanted to learn more of what transpired between these months without pressuring the girl of what happened.

Looking over her shoulder, Amara looked at Asha to see the woman on the alert as always. She wore a dour face, arm resting on her sword, and her walk was much like a stomp. She really did walk and act like a lord, she even heard Ygritte say that Asha walked like a lord with something stuck up his ass. Even though Amara liked Asha, she found Ygritte's joke to be funny and felt guilty over laughing. "You don't have to be so tense." She said with a teasing smile, capturing Asha's attention.

Asha's expression smoothed some, less serious and more of a calm demeanor. "The roads are dangerous." Their brief eye contact ended as Asha decided to observe their surroundings once again. "We also have my uncle looking for us. I don't think relaxing and thinking we're safe for now is what we should be doing."

Seeing her point, Amara nodded in agreement. "I don't think we'll be meeting him anytime soon though. He doesn't know of my relationship with the Starks, and I doubt he will any time soon." She was still grateful for that. "He thinks I'm some simple healer."

"I suppose that's a good thing." The iron girl visibly sighed at that, "He won't know where to look for us… For now." The both of them knew he would eventually find out, of that they were sure. Euron seemed to find things out sooner or later, and when he did he would never let you know. He liked the element of surprise. Asha then inched closer so that the two were walking side by side, she leaned close so that the conversation were for their ears only. "Do you trust them?" Her eyes slowly turned to look at Tormund, "These Wildlings…"

Amara was unsure how to feel about them honestly. She didn't know if she trusted them or not. She understood Asha's feelings of distrust as well as Arya's feelings of trust for them. They had, after all, saved Arya and didn't treat her like a prisoner either. They fed her and kept her safe.

From her short experience with them, Tormund wasn't a bad person just like Arya said. He was loud and brash, sometimes saying things that made Amara cringe, but he wasn't cruel and was actually helpful. When he caught fish, he gave her the most servings claiming that she would fall out in the middle of traveling if she remained so skinny. He seemed concerned for her health, and so she found her heart warming up to him.

"They haven't given me reason not." Was her answer, "But they have been good to me. They have been good to you as well, Asha. I think it is alright to trust them."

The look on her face didn't say she exactly agreed, but it also said that she didn't disagree either. With a snort, Asha folded her arms as they kept with their pace. "I'm still going to sleep with one eye open."

"I heard that." Tormund turned to look at them, "What do you think we're gonna do? Take your little pretty legs and flay 'em?"

Amara rose a brow, glancing back and forth between the two of him. "I'd like to see you try, Wildling." The grin that grew on Asha's face made Amara think that she was actually provoking him to fight her. The last thing they needed was a fight, especially with the night coming so close.

"Just 'cause you're a woman doesn't mean I'm going to back down either, Southerner." He had a smirk of his own, hand reaching for the axe in his makeshift belt. Amara quickly stepped in-between them, "You think we're savages, like we ain't worth shit because we do anything we can survive. When you're living every day, scared shitless you might turn into a Wight and have no food to feed your family, you'd do anything. Tell me, princess, have you ever have to fight just to eat? No, you had your little servants roundin' on up and cooking whatever your little heart desired. What makes you so different and special?"

"You know nothing of went I been through! I've spent days on my own with no help from anyone else. Everything I have, I earned! And now I'm stuck having to kiss my uncle's ass for a throne was not even his to begin with. So I suggest you shut up, Wildling, before I have you choking on your own blood with the helping hand of ol' trusty here."

"That's enough!" Amara kept her place between them, "The last thing we need to do is fight. Why not try to get along until we reach the Westerlands? We're not that far away, alright?" Her words fell on deaf ears. The two of them were staring each other down with their hands hovering over their weapons as if they were waiting for the other to draw theirs. Amara then decided to speak to Asha, finding that she might be easier to make back away. "Asha, please?" She hardly wanted to plead but she also did not need them killing each other.

Asha glanced at her for a few seconds before looking back at Tormund heatedly. She hauled up some spit and spat on the ground, justly indicating exactly how she felt about him. He merely snorted and sneered as Asha tromped herself ahead, obviously needing time to herself in order to cool off. Amara was left still standing in front of Tormund and Arya watching the two of them with somewhat disappointment. It didn't seem surprising that she might've been interested of a fight between the two.

"You shouldn't have stepped yourself in." He told her, making her look up at him due to their obvious height difference. "She wants to say she doesn't trust us then you should let us settle it. She thinks herself so tough."

"Fighting won't solve anything. I think we should try to make this trip peaceful and then you'll have no need to set eyes on each others faces again, don't you think?" The two of them started to walk, Arya still at his side.

"And if it did break out? What were you going to do? You're so short and skinny, I can practically send you flyin' with just a flick." Amara's eyes narrowed as he laughed, finding his own words funny. "I should've given you some more fish, you still haven't picked up any weight. Tell me girl, do you like starving yourself? Do the men of Westeros like their women bones?"

With an inelegant snort, she found herself setting her jaw. "I assure you, Tormund, my weight is not of my choosing. You have no idea what I've gone through and I would like if you did not find interest in the condition of my body and worry about other things that require your attention."

Arya then punched Tormund's side, her punch not strong to make him wince but he did glance at her to meet her angry stare. "You don't know when to shut up, do you?"

"I was only teasing the girl. It's not my fault she be so thin-skinned." Ruffling Arya's hair, he glanced back at the healer that had a rather stony expression as she walked. It was obvious that he was feeling a bit guilty, not really sure why she was angry.

Feeling his stare, she met his eyes that quickly averted when she caught him. He awkwardly cleared her throat, coughing randomly. Confused, she rose a brow before looking back away from him. Was she really that harsh? Her eyes then roamed down to look at her body, her hand slowly pressing down her stomach and then up her sides. Did she really lose that much weight? Euron even commented on it, saying that he ought to feed her heavier meals.

If she looked this unhealthy to them then she feared how Jon might see her. He fretted about her health back when she neglected herself during the time of Bran's coma and all he would do is worry all over again. She didn't want to worry him, especially when his mind should be focus on this war. She didn't want him to look at her and find more reasons to feel stress.

"I'm not saying you're unsightly or anything, healer." Tormund spoke up, making her look at him as he tried to explain himself. "You've got a…nice face," Scratching the side of his head, through his unkempt hair, he seemed rather flustered and unsure of his words. "I just think you should eat more, that's all I meant to say."

It was hard not to smile and she found the flicker of anger she felt dwindling down. "I understand." She gave a nod, "Thank you for being concerned about me."

He gave her something that looked like a hint of a smile. Arya herself was smiling too, "Good Tormund, you're finally learning how to act like a decent person."

"Talk to me like I'm sort of dog again, runt. I'll start biting at you like one." Arya didn't take his threat seriously, and Amara was starting to see that he hadn't meant it. The Wolf girl gave him a toothy grin instead and started to talk about what it was like to climb the Wall.

 **...**

The nascent flames flickered, gamboling and weaving under the manipulation of the Red Woman. The flames whispered and spoke in tongues that sent cold whips of air in his ears. Whatever they said seemed so unnaturally foreign and sometimes he wasn't sure if he was actually hearing them speak or if it was all in his head. She could hear them though, and could see images of what others couldn't see in them; shadows, many of them, dancing in the flames. The way the glowing embers would twirl and sway reflected its beauty into her pale, blue eyes. She made the fire grow big with enough force to blow her hair back as she made her eyes fall close, letting the heat of it sink into her pores and give her the intensity of the greatness that was R'hllor's power. "Only one of the three false kings is dead." He finally spoke, eyes steely as he watched her gaze steadily into the fire. "Why hasn't the Wolf Pup been taken cared of? Renly is dead, you've seen his death in the flames. Why haven't you seen Robb Stark's?"

The room was filled with the flames' sweltering heat, stronger than it had ever been since Stannis first learned her to see images within them. The way they illuminated her was nearly frightening as the fire seemed so pure in its element and made the room smell of wood like a natural incense. "What makes a Wolf so strong is the number of its pack." Her eyes continued to stare into the source, "You must remove the strength of its pack like limbs to a man."

"His bastard brother marches with him." He nearly forgot that. Melisandre had spoke of it before, seemingly bewildered why his half brother marched with him. She seemed troubled by it and never bothered to explain why either other than to say it was unnatural. He questioned himself a day or two about it but then eventually found himself too busy to be preoccupied to keep entertaining the thought.

"The Wolf King won't fall unless his brother is cut from him."

His interest piqued and it also grew the flames of his annoyance all the same. "What about him keeps Robb Stark alive? I hear the boy rides to battle with his men. Is the little brother the protector?"

"Almost, Your Grace." The corner of her lips tugged upward, her own interest taking new heights of Jon Snow. "Robb Stark is quite the formidable pup, green as he is. His brother has a head for war, but an even mindful mind to create a path for his brother to walk down. He's not so foolish. He cannot be tempted to walk astray."

Swirling her red silks to face Stannis, he watched her curiously as the fire behind her never dimmed. It would have dwindled by now, becoming more feeble to be nothing but a small flame that would've flickered itself out. Instead it was wild as it was when she first gazed within it.

"A certain presence in their life has changed the balance of things, my king." Her hands came to rest at his shoulders, "Robb Stark's death wouldn't seem so muddy and unforeseen had things gone as R'hllor meant it to."

"And what has made this change?" Not letting himself be tempted by the sight of her, his eyes stared straight into her own to hear the answers and find out how to take down another king that stood in his way to the Iron Throne.

Seeing that coaxing herself away from this conversation wouldn't work in her favor, she slid her hands down from his shoulders to his arms before limply letting them fall at her sides. "I see great water surrounding them, protecting them as thick and highs as a castle walls. If it is not tamed or cease to be, it'll drown us; douse the flames of R'hllor if left."

"Then get rid of it, Melisandre or should I be the one to?"

"We'll need to meet the Wolf Pup so I can find the source of it or else we'll be lost in darkness and confusion."

* * *

 **A/N:** Pleaaaaaaase don't hate me. I know, I'm mean. Jon and Robb are hurt and now Stannis and Melisandre are on their way. At least Amara caught a break this chapter and Catelyn received good news.

I wonder why GoT does not have the character have their canon eye colors. I wanted to desperately write brown eyes for Margaery, but I'm so used the blues that I just stuck with it. I don't care when it comes to Daenerys though, her eyes are purple as far as I'm concerned.


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note:** Sorry I'm a bit late with this chapter.

* * *

If someone were to ask her how she thought the day before her nameday would've been like, she would tell you the exact opposite of this. Standing before people much older than her as they behaved like a group of children. Left and right, petty arguments ensued. It might've gone even far as to getting physical if she didn't place herself in the middle to stop it. She would have to chide Ygritte and Arya since they would egg the fight on. Not to mention, Tormund would do the same unless he was the one involved. As much as Amara enjoyed taking care of children, she wasn't fond of the idea of taking care of people who were capable of making rational decisions. Even when she tried to placate them, it wasn't easy. They hardly listened to her and she figured it had something to do with the fact that she was the second youngest after Arya in the group.

Right now, at this very instant, Tormund and Asha were arguing almost like it was a common event. It all had to do with which route the group would take, something important that could've been settled with a yes or no. However, it wasn't that simple between them. Asha suggested they headed for the roads and walked through towns, but Tormund thought it wrong. He believed it was much faster to take the forests and the clearings. Neither one of them would relent despite hearing the reasons why they were split on it. It wasn't really hard to comprehend since the both of them were capable leaders in their own right. They were used to leading, commanding, and not following someone they barely even knew.

Arya was right at her side, the both of them looking back and forth between the two. Arya stood with her arms crossed, all the weight shifting to her left leg as her eyes would occasionally roll every now and then. Amara was too busy fiddling with her fingers, a bit anxious that they might just breakout into a brawl. Ygritte, however, was too busy snickering at whenever Asha hit one of Tormund's nerves to the point he would begin to snarl like a beast.

"There be bandits on the main roads." argued Tormund, crossing his arms now across his broad chest. That relieved Amara a little, she figured he wouldn't get himself ready to fight in such a stance.

"So?" Asha arched an eyebrow, the look in her eyes very much deriding. "Scared of them? You think we can't take them?" With her arms akimbo, her eyes began to narrow in such a ferocity that she might make the Kraken swim down back in its bleak waters.

Scoffing, Tormund would not back down now. If anything, that gave him the incentive to keep the argument afloat. "Did I say we can't, girl?"

Amara let out a long sigh, knowing that if she stepped in that nothing would change. They would stop for a minute before a verbal spar would ensue again.

Arya sighed a well, "I keep thinking she's gonna hit him but she hasn't yet."

"Hopefully she never will." Her eyes glanced at Arya from their corners, seeing the wolf girl roll her eyes for the umteenth time.

"Sometimes you gotta let 'em fight. They'll solve their differences soon enough." You would think that Amara would try to explain why that was a bad idea, but this was Arya. When you told her things were a bad idea, she tended to go through with them as if she wanted to learn it all the hard way.

The two of them walked away, the arguing becoming quieter the further away they went. The walk was a quiet one and not at all awkward. They obviously had things to say but wanted to contemplate about them until they were ready to voice anything on their mind. They made their way to the top of what seemed to be a rather small hill. The air suddenly tasted a little bit fresher instead of like rainwater like it had the past week.

"We're nearly there." Arya sounded completely relieved, her hands on her little waist as she stared out at the Westerlands that stretched out into the distance. Amara stood at her side, minimally hoping to catch sight of the Stark banners but knowing they were a little too far away to see them.

They had no idea what was going on in the war since they couldn't go into any towns with Wildlings. The people would throw them out with prejudice. So the meadows and forests were their temporary homes until they met with the Stark army again. It was with those thoughts that she understood why Tormund wanted to stay away from the main roads. Bandits wouldn't be their only problems.

"I wonder if your mother has returned." Lady Catelyn left for Bitterbridge when she left for Winterfell, she last remembered. Had she come back yet? She should've. It shouldn't have taken that long to talk to Lord Renly. Maybe she had gone back to Riverrun to be with her dying father since Robb surely wouldn't want her in harms way like this.

Arya soon looked up at her, her face in a rather worried expression. "How is she? Since, you know, father…"

Arya didn't need to hear how her mother was struggling, even if it was the truth. Lady Catelyn had her lowest points, clutching onto Lord Stark's finger and roaming down memory lane as if the events just happened yesterday. All in desperate hopes that her visions of a happier time would remove the present they were currently living in. Despite it all, she still held her head high and spoke mainly with a clear mind that had only one objective: protecting her children. Arya needed to hear about that then she needed to hear her mother's sporadic moments of mourning.

"She's holding on." With a sigh, she tried to make a small smile. It felt right to lie, but Amara didn't like keeping things from Arya. "Your mother is so very strong, but even strong people have vulnerable moments."

"I know." She replied, "I just hope she isn't pushing herself too hard. She's always so pushy. She takes on so many things at once… She hardly has time to herself."

"She's a mother; a mother leads by example or at least they try to. A mother also tries not to be weak so that their children won't know fear in her presence." Fiddling with the ends of her messy hair, Amara thought of her own mother briefly. While she was weak from her illness, she tried to act as if everything was fine and tried to go about her usual routine to not frighten her children with sudden changes. She carried on until she became immobile; she didn't want to give her children any reason to worry if she had a say in the matter.

"My father said before he…" Fiddling with her fingers, Arya skipped over what the both of them knew. That hurtful truth. "Before he died…that when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives." The healer listened raptly, "Jon is like father, a lone wolf. Whenever I think of father's words I can't help but to think that Jon doesn't need to follow father's footsteps."

Unsure with what direction Arya was going, Amara met Arya's eyes that were gazing at her with intensity. "Arya…"

"You can't let him be the lone wolf." Her voice was rising, but not purposely. She was getting rather passionate with this proposal she was trying to convey, "I know he never felt like he fit in because I never did either, but they are my family. They are still my blood. He has us but then at the same time he doesn't. But he does have you, Amara. What I mean to say is that can you make sure that Jon doesn't die? I don't want to lose anyone else. People die in war, and I don't want Jon to die."

What she wanted to do was hold Arya in order to placate her. The healer's arms stayed so limply at her sides, fearing that if she held her and agreed that she would be lying entirely. Arya wasn't asking for a lot, and what she was asking for was something Amara already wanted to do. She wanted to protect Jon, but how could she? She could hardly protect herself. She failed halfway when she let him go to this war in the first place. And she halfway didn't know if that was the right thing considering how the Free Folk took Castle Black. How could she promise Arya anything like that? It would just make her a liar since she didn't believe she could live up to it.

Biting down on her bottom lip, almost to the point she was about to cut the flesh and make it bleed, she tried to summon some words. Her mind was blank however, and her heart felt uneasy. Arya's eyes, big and grey, were studying her as if they were trying to decipher the answer all on their own. In a minute she'll get frustrated by the lack of a response and then she'll believe that Amara didn't want to do it. Her thought process was becoming easy to figure out.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath. She had to hurry or else Arya would let her temper get the best of her. "Amara, you—"

"I can't promise you that, Arya." Her heart ached just from saying it. "Jon chose to follow Robb to war, and… there's nothing I can say to him to stop him. I can't follow him into the battlefield and make sure he comes back unharmed for several reasons. All I can do is go to the healer's tent and wait for him and treat him, and there's nothing else I can do after that."

"I know that!" Her voice was rising, "I meant—"

"I know what you meant, Arya." She interrupted her abruptly, "I have tried to fight it, I did, but I do very much love your brother. It pains me, nearly brings me madness, to not know if he's well or not. I wish I never even left him most of the time, and I will never forgive myself if something happened to him while I was away." Arya seemed genuinely surprised by her confession, almost embarrassed to be hearing it from the looks of it. Her reaction was so well-fitted for her that Amara nearly felt the need to laugh despite how intense the conversation was. "But I know better. I know that I can only be there for him as a healer and nothing greater than that. You know in this world we can't just be with who we want, especially the ones we love at that."

After a minutes time, it seemed her explanation was starting to make sense to Arya. Her eyes kept looking every which way as she thought, possibly trying to find something to combat her words with. Before, Arya might've had a fighting chance but now she was victim of the way of life that before them now. "Took you long enough to admit it." The healer snorted with laughter while simultaneously acting as if she had no clue what the girl meant. "You're practically like family already. At least to me you are…"

Nothing would've made her happier to have Arya as a little sister. Just hearing that say that made her want to pull the little brunette in a hug, but her hugging limits were running a bit low. Arya was getting older, tougher, and didn't enjoy being smothered. Amara understood, she knew how it felt once to have someone overbearingly affectionate to the point you wanted to run the other way when you saw them. So, instead, she tousled Arya's hair.

"Hey! What's with that? No hugging?" Her toothy grin made everything feel like what lied ahead wouldn't be so bad for just a tiny moment. Either that or Amara was easily charmed by the light in Arya's eyes and how her smile was just too sweet to not hold a glimmer of hope. She'd never tell her that or the girl would frown until her face was stuck that way.

"If I hugged you then you would say I was being too soft on you." Arya smiled at that, like she was happy that Amara figured that out on her own. "I care for you, Arya. And the last thing I ever want to do is hinder you and make you feel like you aren't the tough person that I know you are. So, I'll let you decide when you want a hug. When you want to run into my arms, just know they are always open."

Her eyes were welling up much to her surprise. Unsure what to do now after that promise she just made, she gave her a comforting smile instead. When she felt those little arms around her neck, she quickly wrapped her arms around Arya's torso and held her close as she possibly could. "I hate to say it," She practically mumbled against her hair, "but I miss Sansa. I wish she could be in this hug too."

Amara's own eyes started to gloss, making everything become a blur. She missed Sansa too but she was even more moved to hear Arya say it. The sisters that were so obviously different from one another and always had the common ground to argue were now missing one another. Even though Sansa wasn't here to say it, Amara knew that deep in Sansa's fragile heart that she missed Arya just as much.

"I miss her too, and I wish she were here."

After a few more minutes, Arya slid her arms away, landing on her feet, and let them rest at her sides. "If we ever see her again," Her arms now crossing, "don't tell her I said that."

Chuckling, she shook her head. "I won't. It's not like either one of you would admit something like that to each other."

"About those eels you caught earlier… What are you going to do with them?" In other words, Arya was hungry and curious. All of them watched her as she gleefully swiped the slippery, elongated fish out of the Sunset sea earlier with confusion. They weren't sure why she was aiming for them when there were beautiful minnows and big trouts that were much more delicious to eat. None of them knew, however, just how tasty an eel cooked just right could be. At least, that's how she felt about the matter. She didn't have all the ingredients to hide that sometimes rubbery taste, but she was stuck on them when she caught sight of a few hiding around a couple of rocks.

When they reached back to the camp, Arya followed the healer towards the wooden basket that she had the eels in. She even peered over her shoulder, watching how cleanly Amara's dagger would slice it from tail to head and quickly de-bone. Then she took thin sticks and slipped them through in a neat fashion that Arya couldn't quite imitate when she decided to try it out herself.

Tormund watched while taking a bite of his halfway cooked trout, spitting out the bones when he caught them in time. Ygritte decidedly took a place beside Arya with her face scrunched up, still mystified about how she managed to not get stung while catching them.

Occasionally, Amara would glance at the one Night's Watchmen that Arya seemed fond of. The one she spoke often with would gaze longingly whenever they ate and tried not to drool. Once she got at least three of the eels cooked, Amara handed the trio of fried fish to him. He did a double take, blinking quite a few times as if to see it were really happening. She only moved the fish closer, thinking that if he smelled them long enough he might just relent and eat.

"Take them." Amara insisted.

"W-Won't you get in trouble?" His eyes quickly sped around to look at the Free Folk, who weren't paying either one of them no mind. Ygritte watched, only to intimidate the poor boy as she took one of Arya's eels for a bite. She liked it enough to take another, much to Arya's liking.

"That's enough! You're going to eat them all!"

Glancing back at him, she gave him a knowing look. If he wasn't going to eat them then someone else most definitely will. And quickly figuring that out, he took the sticks of fish with an air of hesitancy but gave a smile that showed he was grateful.

"Thank you, Miss." It didn't take long before his teeth bit down on it, tearing off a piece with little trouble.

"Amara. That's my name and I much prefer that over miss." Taking a seat, she decided to get to know him a little more. It might prove useful to learn all that happened at Castle Black from his point of view. "What's your name?"

"Samwell, but you might as well just call me Sam. Lots of people stick to that. It's not so much of a mouthful and easier to remember." Nodding, he gave her a half smile as he was down to his last stick already. He seemed like the type to talk a lot when he was nervous. Amara found the quirk surprisingly sweet. She tried not to laugh when he kept opening and closing his mouth, possibly thinking that speaking again would get rid of the short term silence.

"Nice to meet you, Samwell." She wasn't at all surprised how quickly he ate. She opted to give him some more, but not with Ygritte and Arya fighting over the ones still there. She'll have to cook the rest even though she wanted to save them for later on. "Why did you decide to join the Night's Watch? I'm sure you hardly felt prepared for a day like the Free Folk climbing over the wall to come."

"I didn't really have a choice." The look on his face was a rather sad one, and so she decided not to press on the matter regarding that. "Nobody was prepared, really. None of us new recruits could handle them and it seemed like the only ones that could were too old to really fight." It was rather pitiful to hear. Some of them must've been young, probably in their early to late teens. They hardly knew what was ahead of them and yet they were forced a sword in theirs hands with not enough time to prepare. She felt sorry for Sam, but she didn't feel sorry for the horrendous criminals that were also at the Wall and possibly died during the attack. She hoped half of the criminals that were sent weren't here with them. "Could you give some food to Maester Aemon?"

Her eyes scanned for the man he claimed a maester, "Where is he?" She couldn't find anyone that exactly looked old enough to be one or wore the chain around their neck.

"Right there." Samwell pointed towards a hunched figure that were donned with an extra helping of furs. It took her a while to notice that Samwell must've gave the man his cloak since he didn't have one of his own. He must've been freezing, but he didn't care as long as the old maester was warm.

"I'll get to it." Turning to look at Arya and Ygritte, she watched Arya slapped the redhead's hand away whenever it got too close to the eels. Ambling her way over, she bent down started to cook some more since there were hardly any left.

"Hey! That's a lot you're making." Arya commented with her mouthful, brows knitted together as she still tried to make sure Ygritte didn't get her hands on any. "You said to save some for tomorrow.

"Arya, make sure Samwell gets some, won't you?" Arya blinked a few times before looking over at Sam, who gave her a hesitant smile. She nearly snarled at him, but it was obvious she didn't mind. In fact, she looked almost happy that he could finally eat as much as he should and not something as small as the size of her fist.

Ygritte watched the cooking process again before gazing at the side of her face, "How'd you catch 'em? They're so slippery."

"I lived by the sea." Meeting Ygritte's eyes for a brief moment, she paid attention back to the task beforehand. "So I've eaten just about any and everything that lives in it. It's easy though. They're not so hard to catch when you got them figured out."

"How do you do it then?" Tormund had his arms folded, brow raised. It nearly startled her to hear he suddenly joined the conversation, but she managed not to jump like she always did.

"Well, there's a saying that an eel is like a good woman. If you try to hang onto them by force, they'll run away." Amara gave him a grin as most of the Free Folk women laughed.

Giantsbane merely smirked, "Women of all kinds are only slippery if they don't like you."

"What do you mean by—"

"Don't you even ask." Ygritte stopped her from even finishing her question, "It's some stupid story. The fool claims to have fucked a she-bear named Shella. We all know he's lying."

Out of all things, Amara wasn't expecting that. In fact, it had taken everything in her to not stay so shell-shocked. Crazy and Tormund did seem to go hand-in-hand from the short amount of time she known him. She was almost ashamed to think she got him a quarter figured out.

"Why don't you believe it?" Obviously annoyed, he interrogated her and then began to interrogate the rest of the Free Folk that seemed to stand by her. None of them looked enthused and seemed like they were saved from the story they might've heard a thousand times before.

Arya glanced over at him, a face that clearly was telling him to shut up without words needed. "Is she gonna eat?" Her head pointed towards Asha since her hands were too busy holding the stick that her nearly finished eel.

"I hope so." After that argument between Asha and Tormund, she distanced herself. Not like she could blame her. This was a situation that none of them really wanted to be in. From Seagard to the Westerlands felt like such a long journey, and then this was a group of many didn't personalities. People were bound to clash at one point or another.

She wanted to see the Maester first, just to speak and let him know of her presence but she felt Asha needed her more. So she left the task to Arya and silently prayed she wouldn't frightened the old man to death. She seemed reluctant at first and mumbled something under her breath. Perhaps it was a little too soon for her to be asking Arya to do too many tasks since she once did for Lord Tywin Lannister not too long ago.

Amara let her footfalls be loud in order to alert Asha. The Greyjoy was already jumpy and her hand never leaving the handle of her sword if she had anything to say about it. As soon as she heard her, she immediately whipped her head to look at her and calmed once Amara too a comfortable seat beside her. Pulling her knees to her chest, she felt comfortable in such a position. It might of been unbecoming, childish, but every now and then such a position brought a mild comfort.

"What's been bothering you?" Amara came out with it, knowing that Asha didn't like beating around the bush. In fact, the healer was surprised that Asha didn't question her first. Maybe she had beat her to the punch.

"What do you mean what's been bothering me?" Unfazed by the sudden hostility in her voice, she kept herself calm and her eyes leveled while gazing at her.

Thank the stars that she had seen Asha in a fluctuation of anger these past few days or else she might've handled the situation rather differently. Possibly with a sneer of her own ready to lock horns even though she knew better. "It's not just Tormund bothering you. I know, I can tell. You have other things on your mind. All I ask is that you tell me, which I'm sure you don't want to. I'm only showing that I'll listen if you want."

"Why should you care?" She practically scoffed, bending one knee for her arm to rest on. "You're getting all that you want. You found your little Stark princess and now you're going back the Stark king and prince. You're closer to them than you let on too. A simple healer? Simple healer my ass. That girl hugged you like you were her blood."

"What did you want me to say? That the king is my friend and that the prince…" Her speech fell short then for a bright moment. "That the prince is my friend too? What difference would it have made?"

"Not a difference, healer." The Ironborn turned to look at her with appraising eyes, "It would've made much more sense. I had to make sure what you said was true, that's why it took me so long to free you. I met a search party for you from your king's orders. You were of some importance if he cared enough to do that."

It took an effort not to smile and not hide it by burying her face in her knees. Robb, who she split from with such unsteady grounds, sent a search party for her. He worried… He cared. That was enough to make her happy, and enough to make her realize how arguing with him for such petty, little things wasn't well worth it. She would apologize when she saw him. That would be the first thing she would do.

"I think you already knew there was more to it." The corner of her lips tried to stay still in order to keep from smiling. "Would you really come all this way to give the Starks a mere healer? You could've reasoned that they'll find another and left me with your uncle while figuring how to convince them to side with you."

"Convince them with nothing to give? I'm not stupid. My Uncle Victarion is as stupid as bait to a fish, but not I."

"I didn't take you for a fool, Asha." With that, she saw something familiar of a smile on her lips. Maybe she had imagined it because it was gone like it was never even there.

"Your Starks got their Dorne too." Amara piped up that, her brows raised. That meant Jon and Robb were successful. Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane had made Dorne give their hand? She felt excited for them. It was late excitement, something they've probably already celebrated for, but her heart was pumping with glee. "Now they want the Tyrells. Greedy little wolves; roses and dornish, what else will they want next? The Ironfleet I intend to promise? What point would there be for the Lannisters to not just cave and surrender?"

For some reason, Tywin succumbing to a defeat didn't sound something befitting of the man she heard so much about it. Lannisters were stubborn aren't they? That was the reason why the Queen nor her King son wanted to let go of the Iron Throne, wasn't it? If they had gotten the Tyrells then the Lannisters would be severely outnumbered. What would they do? Possibly buy their way into gaining allies. They had the gold to do it.

Amara wanted to think about it. She wanted to think what would Tywin Lannister do if Robb was so lucky to gain the Tyrells. Robb had been lucky thus far, but it would eventually run out. Luck wasn't infinite. "But you ask what bothers me…" Absently raising her head, her eyes were barely in focus as she turned to where Asha sat. "What bothers me is how many of my men died at Pyke and on my ship. Men that would follow me to the darkest parts of the sea. Some still live, but they fear they won't live long being knowingly aligned with me. The few fearless are so small in numbers, I can count them with one hand."

"Euron has gotten so many men to follow him based on false promises and blood. And what do I get? Turned away 'cause I have a cunt and not a cock between my legs. I want to be spiteful and say it isn't fair. What good would it do if I did? Until I grow a cock they won't look at me as their leader unless I bring them down to their knees."

"You plan to do that with Robb's men?"

Asha wrinkled her nose before sighing, almost like she believed so halfheartedly in herself. With a shrug, she slowly laid down on the grass with her arms behind her head. "A girl can dream, can't she? Who is to say that if I did that when I sit on the seastone chair they won't 'tempt to o'erthrow me. I'd give them all the hells and all the storms the seas could muster, but I'm still just one woman. Your King can only lead me there, healer. The rest is up to me."

"You don't know unless you try." Gazing up at the cloudy sky, Amara had reason to believe that it might rain in the middle of the night or by first light tomorrow. "What I find so admirable about you is that you know exactly who you are."

Silence came swift, but soon left with Asha's question. "What do you mean by that? Are you still a wanderer, healer? You said you stayed for the Starks. The North is your home now, isn't it?"

Her eyes were suddenly prickling with tears that felt impossibly warm to touch. Why? She couldn't fathom why she wanted to cry right now. What reason was there to be sad? The North did become like a home. It had the people she loved in it except for one. It felt strange to not want to claim the North when she was bound to leave Naran once she married. They would've never been together; the process was just the same speed too. So why did she feel so hesitant?

"I suppose the North is something like home." said Amara as she tried to blink the unnecessary tears away. "People I love are there."

"Then what makes you still a wanderer?" Her hands reached for the ends of her hair, fiddling with it between her fingers.

"I guess because I always know I don't really belong there. That one day I'll have to leave."

The light of day or whatever left of it that was, was becoming a muted palette of colors. The clouds that once covered the entire blue of the sky decided to disperse to reveal night. The sudden transition had a rather saddening feel to it all. The ounce of warmth that was once part of the breeze cooled into a goose-pimple inducing chill. The crickets soon came, and her heart nearly hoped to see fireflies.

"That's only true if you let it be." Asha caught her surprise, she nearly thought the conversation had ended with what she said last. A smile spread across Amara's lips for some unknown reason. "If you say you can't then you won't. You say you will then you might just do it. Don't die like some loser only thinking what could've been while you're lying out there bleeding. If you want something healer then you have to take it."

As Asha's words resonated in her mind, the darkness was soon lit up with a swarm of fireflies almost like they knew she wanted to see them. She couldn't help but think back at Zola's words about a new beginning. It might've been true after all, she couldn't help but think. It could be time that Amara didn't stifle herself any longer.

 **...**

Her hands wanted to wring themselves around his neck. 'Sniveling snake!' She kept repeating in her head like it was some sort of mantra. She would much rather it be a curse. The way her eyes bore themselves into him, daring to draw daggers made of solid ice out of her eyes just to pierce into his face. Petyr was once like a little brother to her, someone she held so fondly to her heart since she was a girl, and now he was opposing her. He had been opposing her all along and she was too blind to see it.

Now he dared showed himself here in efforts to sway Mace Tyrell to wed Margaery to that beast of a king; one that shouldn't even sit on the Iron Throne or let alone wear the crown on his oversized head. Catelyn never thought that silver tongue of his would be used against her. Then again, she didn't expect a lot of these events to happen to her since the day she received her sister's letter back when all was right. Back when Ned was in their bed and their children together and safe. If only she had ignored Lysa's words, what then? Robert still would've came for Arryn would have still died. It was like a chain of events that bound them a curse of sorrow.

It took everything in her to remain composed. It was the thoughts of Robb healing, being well and whole again, and looking at her with pride when she will come back with Margaery. She let him down with Renly, she could not fail him again. On her pride as a mother, she could not fail Robb after all they had done to be where they are now.

There was still a sharp twist in her gut still. It felt as if she had been stabbed by a finely crafted, honed knife. It wasn't because of Petyr's betrayal, she felt it more as she gazed at Lord Tyrell. Was it because he was entertaining this idea? Weighing the choices as he wore his House shade of green and sat upon his high chair with a wine cup in his hand. Her eyes couldn't even properly overlooking that balding head of his that was shining as he tilt his head in contemplation while listening to Petyr plead and bargain.

"—The throne owes you greatly, Lord Tyrell. Why not let us repay our debts to you by making your daughter the queen?" His lip curled in a knowing smirk. He also wore that one whenever he felt that someone was inching closer to his webs of persuasion. Catelyn wanted to knock it off his face with a rough helping of her hand, but she knew better than to let her body perform such an action. Her eyes would say it all where her body and lips could not.

"You think my daughter so cheaply? She's worth than the debt the Iron Throne owes!" spurned Mace, making Catelyn want to smile at that. If Petyr kept being so arrogant than she was sure Mace's arrogance would inflate and be used against him. What better way than to stay the calm while in the eye of the storm?

Petyr's smirk quickly fell and he taken on the look of a groveler right away. "My apologies if I gave you reason to believe that. What I meant was to not insinuate that course of action will cheapen your daughter, my lord. I was proposing what would be a better way to reward for all you've done by making her the Queen of all Seven Kingdoms."

Now was her time to debate him.

"She would not be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Tyrell." Her eyes espied the sudden look her old friend gave her from her peripherals. "Seven Kingdoms are not here with us no more." Catelyn slowly glanced at Baelish, "Your King only rules the South. My son is the one who rules the North and the Riverlands, and he is campaigning to take the West right from the Lannister's grasp as we speak. Most importantly, he has the hand of Dorne and even their Prince fights with him."

"If Lady Margaery marries King Joffrey, she will be the Queen of the South and the wife of a king that nearly all his subjects despise." Keeping her shoulders squared and her hands neatly folded. Her chin high and her eyes alight with not a slight trace of fear. Catelyn was a woman of poise, of grace, and not spun by emotions. Men hated that. They hated an emotional woman in their court. As much she would rather grieve, strike Petyr down, and go riding off to her boy, she did not look like that kind of woman now. She had to sink her fingers in the little strength she had left to summon and wear it like armor.

The Highgarden lord looked look perplexed and then shifted his gaze to Petyr, her words obviously flowing in that head of his. What sense would he make of it? She was unsure, but she had to choose her words carefully. Anything could make the man see something as an insult to his daughter and to himself. "Queen of the South or Queen of the North? Neither one would make her _the_ queen but just _a_ queen."

With a sigh, Petyr shook his head. "The King and his Queen mother wanted to resolve this and bring Westeros back to peace, my lord. There would be no war among five kings if Lord—King, I should say, Robb had only agreed to their terms. He is but a boy who has gotten his first spoonful of war. He has no idea what it means to lead a kingdom or several, he barely been a lord for a day before his father's unfortunate death."

Her blood nearly boiled and all trace of calm slowly left her features. How dare he? How dare he insult her son? In front of her like this? "They killed my husband! Not only did they name him traitor and took his life, they would not give me the bones to bury! If they could kill my husband and not send me, his wife, no bones of his for him to be rightly buried then what will they send you when they find your daughter a sudden threat? My husband was no traitor to the Iron Throne. My husband had nothing but love for King Robert, and they returned that love with his death."

"King Joffrey is but a boy himself, who has not even seen a slice of the war around him. The men that follow my son have seen their king fight in battle, by their side. It is because my son rides with them, fights with them, that they lay down their lives so quickly for him." Taking a few steps, she eyed Mace Tyrell, "Would you rather your daughter marry a coward or would you rather your daughter marry a man who makes all men that meet him have no other choice but respect him? Joffrey does not lead his men, Lord Tywin does. Have you EVEN heard the vicious rumors of King Joffrey? They say he is nothing but a spoiled child with a dangerous tantrum and a taste for torture. My own daughter nearly married him and she writes his name in nothing but trembles of fear."

The expression etched on Littlefinger's face was dumbfounded and he found his lips sewn together for there was no retort to be had. "Even Lord Renly did not trust Littlefinger." Catelyn even thrown in, adding more fire to the already breathing flames. "I once did and all he did was betray me. You'll send your daughter South where she'll have to watch over her little shoulder because all those that remain there holds a dagger with squalid lies to tell for their own gain."

"I will make my decision no less than an hour." Lord Tyrell took a swig of his wine, the lines in his face seeming more visible by the solemn expression he wore. For once, she felt relieved and hoped that she could finally leave this place.

 **...**

 **:** _Amara's Dream_ **:**

It was hard to breathe. The smoke of the fire would slip their way into in her lungs, making her hunch over in a coughing fit and burn her insides like the flames were licking across her flesh. Her eyes could barely make out to figure out why she was surrounded by the incessant flames. She had no means to escape neither, it circled her and burned the ground and became high walls. All she could do was suffer in its presence. A wall of flames soon died down before her and as desperately as she wanted to run in efforts to escape, she couldn't. Standing there in that spot of freedom was Jon. He was unaffected by the fire; no heaving or sweat making his brow glisten. He seemed as if he was immune to it. It almost was like he belonged there.

Her mind wanted to ignore the oddness of it all. She wanted to run towards him and ignore the flashing fire, but her feet were cemented to the ground. She couldn't move; she couldn't twist nor force her feet up. It was like she was sewed to place and all she could do was watch. Her eyes could only watch Jon stand in the fire that seemed to circle him, the wash of yellow and red sparks had blown back his hair with their sheer force. Prying her lips apart, she tried to scream and it seemed her voice was stuck in her throat.

Entering through the flames from the left side was Euron Greyjoy, and she completely stilled at the sight of him. With her eyes wide, she had watched him take his sword and plunge it deep in Jon's side. Jon hadn't moved to fight him. It was like he hadn't even tried to defend himself and took the blade. It pained him though, he had fallen to his knees with a mouthful of blood. A second sword plunged itself to his right side and she had no idea who the person was that done it. And then the third man had plunged his sword straight through his back with its sharp tip coated in blood.

No matter how much she tried to move or scream, she was suffering in absolute silence. It was as if all she could ever was watch him die as the three men stood around him with their eyes looking straight at her. There was a cruel smirk on Euron's face as if he took joy in seeing her break. It was if he killed Jon with no other purpose than to take joy in watching her heart completely break.

Soon the three of them had turned into plumes of smoke and disappeared. A woman with red hair and red clothes came forward, her hands carrying a sword with its blade coated in fire. Jon was of little life now, his eyes never leaving hers, which made it all the more painful. She couldn't decipher what such a look meant. That red-haired woman had plunged that sword of fire right through his heart and letting the burning edge of it stick through his chest. And then the fire consumed him until he was but a shadow dancing in the flames.

 **:** _End Dream_ **:**

Her body bolted upright, gasping for air that she couldn't find in that terrifying nightmare she dreamt. Her heart was pounding and mind tried to empty itself of every image that conjured up of that dream. She had to hold herself or she would've felt like she would've suddenly come apart if she didn't. Amara's eyes then frantically looked around to see that morning's light was here. The soft, amber hue was ridding the world of the pitch darkness that was only here just minutes ago. The yellow sun was taking its time rising from the horizon, but the feel of it was starting to ebb away that cold, sweat she felt on her skin.

Asha was lying in that same place she laid last night. She hadn't moved an inch, with her arms still behind her head and back lying against the green grass. Surprisingly, to her right was Arya, who must've looked for her and settled to sleep next to her. Arya liked it best to sleep by the fire and Amara always had to make sure she wasn't too close out of fear she'd roll herself in it. Now sleeping next to each other must've became a habit since then.

Her hand slight brushed some of Arya's hair away from her face. Before she decided to spend half of dawn like this, she got herself to her feet and prayed that nobody was at the ocean. She wanted to go for a swim and stretch her tired muscles. She wanted to watch the sun rise over the ocean like she used to back at home. Since she was eighteen now, she wanted do one familiar thing before she decided to move on and devote herself to a new life.

"Where you goin'?" Lifting her head, she glanced to her right to see Tormund.

"To the sea for a bit. It is the last time we'll get to see it since we'll have to go through the mountains." She said with a small smile. "Do you want to go for a swim too?"

"I've never been fond of too much water." She blinked twice, somewhat surprised by that admittance.

"Tormund, are you telling me you're afraid of the sea?" Although she was teasing, she saw how unnerved he quickly was before a smile caught her eyes.

He patted the top of her head and led her forward like he would a child. Her pride wanted to swat his hand away, but the gesture reminded her too much of Jon. "I ain't scared of anything, 'specially no water."

"So why don't you like too much water as you say?" Her eyes looked up at him but he was too busy looking forward.

"Reminds me too much of my daughter." Now she wished she kept her mouth shut. She didn't know Tormund had any children. Was she gone or was she with Mance at Castle Black? Did he have any sons too? It might've been nosy for her to ask. Either way, he was separated from them in some kind of way. "Munda is her name. She's a woman now but when she was just a little tyke, she gave me all kinds of hell."

She'd like to imagine her father would've said the same; both for good and bad. "What would she do?

"She liked to run and play with the boys, refused to cry whenever she got herself hurt." The smile on his face was bright, stitched with the thread with color of a father's love. Her smile broadened at the look since he had clear adoration in eyes. "I'd tell my sons' friends that I'd rip 'em apart if she get herself hurt again, and I tell you they played with her nicely since." Chuckling, she swung her arms as his hand slid off her head and joined him back at his side.

"I don't think Munda was happy about that." Amara added, making him grin.

"You're right, she wasn't. She yelled my ear off when she found out, but I wouldn't take it back for nothing." She found herself laughing, imagining a tiny girl arguing with him without any hesitation. The Free Folk women were fighters and carried themselves, so she could only imagine that his daughter was taught to be just as the same as Ygritte and the other women too. "You have any children?"

"I do." Austin's face came to the forefront of her mind, making her heartache and warm all at once. "I have a boy named Austin. He may not have my eyes nor my smile, but he has all of my heart."

"You took him in then?" His eyes caught her nod from their corners, "Takes a lot to raise another's child."

"His father asked me to take care of him before his death. His died when he was a baby still. So he knew no mother and had no one. And I took him, even if his father hadn't asked, I would've took him anyway." Her eyes then looked ahead, smelling the ocean air since they were getting so close. "I miss him."

"I'm sure the boy misses you too." His words eased her for only a short while. She left the conversation at that until the sounds of seagulls sounded so clear. Amara inhaled the ocean breeze with happiness and stretched her arms above her head. Before she decided to kick off her boots and run into the waters, she found herself staring out at the horizon, stopping dead in the process.

The adrenaline was coursing through her veins with speed and yet not a single muscle could she move. She couldn't even scream. She felt paralyzed at the sight of the longships that were sailing west, and she knew from the colors and from the flag who they belonged to. It was the Iron Fleet, the one that Asha hoped to lead. Now they were being led by Euron since he sat on the seastone chair. Was Euron sailing with them or was it Victarion? She hadn't seen Euron's ship but he could be captain of the large ship that sailed lead with a giant kraken ornament on its ram. It had not really mattered either way who sailed that captain because whoever it was, they had a purpose for going west.

To kill Robb or take Casterly rock. Maybe even both.

The first one made her shake her head wildly in disbelief, "This isn't happening!"

Tormund turned to her, eyes furrowed in confusion. "What's the matter?"

"That's the Iron Fleet! The Ironborn are going West," She could barely breathe, she couldn't properly inhale because she felt the sharp need to run. If saving Robb and Jon meant that she might have to face Euron Greyjoy again, she'd make the decision a thousand times over. She could not even imagine herself running away, even if it had meant she would die. "We have to hurry, and leave! We have to reach the Stark army before they do!"

 **...**

"I can't believe the coward poisoned you." Lord Umber was more interested than he was with the way he was pacing. "Who laces their swords with poison like a coward?! We ought to kill him and be done with it! What's the use in keeping him alive? He ain't of no value to us alive!"

Jon lied in his bed, his eyes halfway open since he felt tired by the antidote fed to him by the healer that briefly came. He hadn't paid much attention to her since he just gained his focus this morning. The timing of the medicine left him drowsy and wanting to sleep nearly all of the day. He hadn't even known four days had gone since they took the Crag until Lady Dacey visited him as she made her rounds to check on him.

"Neither I or Robb or up for the task to kill Ser Rolph, Lord Umber. My father used to say that man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. And neither Robb nor I can do that now. Let us heal first, and then we'll deal with him later."

That seemed to pacify him for now. Jon knew that it wouldn't be forgotten and it would be brought up again, but he didn't want to hear about it now. "You Starks and your rules. Honor'll get you killed if you keep being so kind and fair."

"All men must die, Lord Umber. I just hope not to die so soon." Greatjon merely laughed at that, and Jon entertained the light air with a smile. Laughing seemed too much of an exercise for him when he felt so exhausted despite how much he slept. Even now, he felt like closing his eyes and let this cure free his body of all the toxins of the poison. They never said how long the cure will take, but he would let it do its job.

"That's what I like about you, my prince. You aren't afraid of anything." The tall, brute of a man had then took a seat at his desk, crossing his arms as he leaned back. "That wolf of yours went off yesterday and hasn't come back. Grey Wind keeps howlin' and it keeps the men up at night. You and the king say it means something when they act so strange, what do you think this means?"

"How long did Grey Wind howl?" Forcing his eyes open, his grey eyes looked over to Greatjon. "Ghost likes to wander, he always did. As of late, he has been clingy and so it is sort of strange for him to just fall back in his old habit so suddenly."

"Not all of the night but a good bit of it." That relieved him, greatly. Nobody had died, of that he was sure. Nobody was harmed or near death. Those were always a sign of when they howled, and he doubted Ghost would've been so quiet either. Jon couldn't help but to think that maybe it had been a warning. And he wouldn't let that be forgotten.

"Also, Lord Mallister has come and says he has something to report. He claimed it rather urgent."

He hoped it wasn't a matter based on decision. Jon doubted he would be able to think so clearly with the fog coming and going in his head. Something was gnawing at him to hear it, and so he tried to keep himself awake a little longer. "Send him in." Greatjon gave a nod before he stood and exited the tent.

In this little time spent alone, Jon pressed his hand to his head and felt it damp with sweat. He must've been with fever as he slept. What kind of poison was it? It seemed so strange that he could've died from being poisoned and not actually from profusely losing so much blood that he ever saw leave out of him. To think that he would've never known he was dying of poison seemed so strange him. Death was scary itself, but to not know what you were dying from what even more frightening.

Jon never thought that deeply about his own death. Who would care and what effect would have on the world. He supposed he would just be like any other person that died, but how many people would mourn for him? Who would have the toughest time coming to terms with his death? It was a sickening thought and almost a little too selfish for him. Why would it matter? He would be dead and he couldn't comfort them. Why would he want to imagine who would be saddened? It was a wrong thought, and he decided to push it away as quickly as it came to mind.

Luckily, Jason Mallister had lifted the flap entrance of his tent and walked in before he thought of something else. His eyes looked over to the lord, who kneeled properly. "My prince, I have news of events that happened in Seagard." Jon nodded to allow him to continue, showing him he was all ears. "Lord Balon Greyjoy has been declared dead." Whether to be surprise or not, he didn't know how to feel. The man was old but surely he wasn't near his death. This was a man who declared himself King of the Isles and the North just months ago and now he was dead?

"Do you know the cause of his death? I suppose it is rather good news, but it's curious." Sitting himself upright properly in his bed, he could feel the sudden pang of soreness of his arm from just the slightest movement. His eyes quickly darted to look at the heavily bandaged wound and could see blood was seeping through the gauze still.

"It is believed his brother had a hand in his death." Standing straight, Jason Mallister wore a rather puzzled expression. "The Silence was seen at the docks for days, and then it suddenly sailed to Pyke. I presume when Crow's Eye discovered the deed had been done, he left to claim the seastone chair."

Jon only knew of Euron Greyjoy through short tales Theon would say about him. There was nothing even the slightest taste of good when spoken about him. And to hear the man must've had a hand killing his own father? Jon knew that it was best to keep an eye on him. "Have you tracked his movements? Has he made any himself known to claim what his brother believes he owns?"

"He declares himself King of the Isles and North as Balon did." With a roll of his eyes, he wondered how many more enemies would come now. Even with their successes, the war was not won. The war would probably go on until they were in their thirties or even older than that at this rate. All they wanted was to free their father and then to avenge him, and now it was becoming much more than that. And it was all that little shit's fault. "That's not all, my prince." Looking back at Mallister, he furrowed his brows as he awaited the rest, "He sacked Seagard and his men have interrogated and killed many of its people. He claims to hold a bounty of 100 gold dragons for a YiTish princess who disguises herself a healer; black of hair, blue of eyes. I have reason to believe that Amara's sudden disappearance is strongly linked to Euron Greyjoy."

His face fell, quicker than any corpse that fell when he did a decisive blow with his sword. He was still, almost like the muscles in his body couldn't move, and his mouth hung with only his lips parted slightly. Jon could barely swallow the lump in his throat as his eyes were to wide as they could possibly stretch.

Euron Greyjoy was looking for Amara.

He knew she was a princess and has a 100 gold dragons on her head. That meant any poor man ( or woman ) and even any man filled with greed would give her up to him to be that rich. And he wanted her for what? Jon's head was still reeling, trying to undo the fog of this medicine and couldn't properly think of all the reasons why Euron would know her or want her. Never minding the reasons why, Jon couldn't protect her now because even he himself did not know where she was. She was lost out there somewhere and had running. How could she protect herself? He buried his face in his hands and tried to find the state of calm but there were too many alarms going off in his head. The adrenaline to run with abandon in a blind search was growing stronger by the second and he couldn't act on it as he desperately wanted.

"The search party still haven't found her. So I can only imagine that she might be safe. I spoke to her in Seagard before it all, and she seemed well. If only I had pressed the matter and made her stay in that inn I was residing in… Things might have gone differently."

"It's not your fault." He was angry. If he spoke on pressing the matter than that meant Amara chose not to take his offer. Stubborn, always so stubborn, and now she was in danger for a second time. He couldn't just go run off and save her because he had no idea where she was now. That also meant he would have to abandon Robb, who was wounded and couldn't fight. They were also too close to Casterly Rock now, and then if he left then it might be possible that Tywin Lannister might find it good to march. Although the Lannister lord currently was in King's Landing, dealing with the aftermath of Stannis' attack, one couldn't be too sure what his next move would be.

The stress of the entire war was attacking everything in him. He wanted to scream, knock a table over, and be angry at someone, but he couldn't do it. All he could do was lie there in his bed and think that maybe if he prayed to the Old Gods to keep Amara safe until he was well enough to search for her that they might listen to him. What would he look like leaving now? Jon didn't think he could properly walk without falling with this medicine hardly letting him keep a clear mind. He didn't think he could ride a horse without falling unconscious whilst holding the reins. If the Old Gods had any hearts after killing their father, they would do that for him. If they didn't then he would never trust in them again.

"You've done all that you should, Lord Mallister. You can report to the King about Balon, Euron, and Amara. He needs to hear this news at once." His voice was quiet, too small for it to be a proper command from a prince. Propriety flew itself out the window right now. He didn't want to be a proper prince. He didn't want to be anything. He just wanted to be alone.

* * *

 **A/N:** Jon and Amara will be reuniting in the next chapter, but will it be a good one? Who knooooows.


	24. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** It is finally here. Phew! Took a lot out of me.

* * *

"Your mother sends a raven that'll she will be returning to Riverrun from Highgarden."

The news made him raise his head, brows raised curiously. He tried his best not to move so much as he sat himself upright with his back against the stack of pillows since he didn't want to rupture his stitches. Even the slightest of movements left him uncomfortable and left him flooded with the same colors of pain that he had gone through when the arrow first struck him. Robb refused to wince or any kind of forms of weakness before his men and women. They were in his tent now, all of them standing before him and looking at him. They were looking at him for morale, for hope.

How could they feel it though? Their King couldn't rightfully fight alongside them. They needed to see him in the battlefield and not barechested, bandaged, and forced to have bedrest because of an arrow wound. Sure, the wound was deep and would take some time for his body to heal itself, now just wasn't a good time for it. His soldiers and lords and lies needed him right there with them and he couldn't give them that. It made him feel less like a king, and he was sure it made them feel like like they could win this.

Pushing his insecurities away for the moment, he focused on the topic at hand. "Does that mean she convinced the Tyrells for a marriage between Lady Margery and I or no?" He would much rather be talking about another more important matter, the Greyjoys, but this was important too. He needed to know if the Tyrells were with them or against them. He also needed to know if he would have to get himself ready to go back to Riverrun and marry Margaery Tyrell. That should've been a minor thought, but it was reoccurring. He couldn't ignore it.

"She didn't say." Lord Umber crossed his arms with a pensive stare, "And I don't know if that's good or bad. Whatever it is, Your Grace, it means for us to be prepared."

Robb nodded at that as Oberyn took a step forward, "We have Greyjoys at our door and an injured King and Prince. Who will you be choosing to lead this battle and who will you choose to lead the camp for protection?"

His first thought was for Lord Umber to lead the battle. He was his champion after all. If Robb wanted to be even wiser though, he would choose for Lord Umber to protect him, Jon, and the Camp instead. The only problem with Greatjon leading the charge was that he liked to go to be on the offensive than to defend. He was far too eager and hot-headed to stay in one place and send people to do what he believed himself already capable of doing. He was a good leader in his own right, but the war has made him a little too much of a thrill chaser at times.

Closing his eyes briefly, he had to make a decision quickly. The Greyjoys hadn't done anything but their presence alerted them to be on their feet. Robb closed his eyes briefly, letting out a sigh that wanted to be breathed out for the longest time. When he opened them again, he looked back at Oberyn. "I want you to lead the charge with Lord Karstark against the Greyjoys, but only if you are both certain that a fight is what they want. Lord Umber and Lady Mormont will both lead the charge in protecting Jon and I here."

Prince Oberyn and Lord Karstark weren't friends or rarely spoke to one another, but the both of them nodded their heads in unison with eyes that read the seriousness of it. Robb suspected for Lord Karstark to argue on why he should this alone, but he was actually quiet. He was even surprised that Ser Brynden was quite alright with this. Maybe because they knew they had no other choice and the last thing they needed was bumping heads and furthering agitating their injured King. He could almost smile at the slight peace.

"No need for that, I'll lead the charge against the Greyjoys." All of them looked at the tent entrance, Jon was already armored and sword at his hip. He walked as if he was never even dealing with the effects of being poisoned. He would've believed his half brother to be at full health if not all of the color came back to his skin. He still looked paler than the norm, a little sickly. Like he needed more time abed and less time on his feet.

"My prince, you are just feeling the effects of the cure." Dacey stepped in, her eyes narrowing. Robb eyed her as she tried to argue with Jon, seemingly for his own protection. Dacey and Jon were good friends, he noted. He always enjoyed watching the bonds forged, especially with those with Jon. His brother hardly had friends except for one. "You cannot put yourself at risk like this."

"She's right." Eddard Karstark joined, "The healer may have fed you the cure, but your body has not fully rid itself of all the poison. You might slow it down if you go out there."

Robb saw all their worried eyes, and their feelings reflected exactly how he felt. His blue eyes turned to his brother, looking quite stubborn right now with a deep frown. Jon hardly pushed for anything, but since he joined this war, he found a voice and will to fight for what he wanted. It didn't happen all the time or all the way; it was a slow progress, but still progress.

"Leave us for a minute." He raised his hand, but then paused for a moment to look at Smalljon. "Tell the men on guard to keep a watch for the Greyjoys." They all obeyed his order, making their way out with the exception of Jon. His helm was in his hand and his eyes looking right back at Robb's. He could see many things crossing his half-brother's eyes, and he didn't like any of it. "Are you mad?"

Jon playfully lifted one corner of his lips, "I suppose you can say that."

"Don't humor me, Jon. You've been poisoned and your left arm needs to heal. I can't send you out there like that. You'll die."

"I won't." He sounded serious, like he really believed his words enough. Robb, however, didn't. He didn't flinch nor falter, and he hardly found himself able to cave into his brother's wish. He just sighed and shook his head. "You need me out there."

"No, I need you here; safe and alive. I can't afford to lose you. Not only are you my general, you're my brother first. I refuse to lose you to some Ironborn or anyone else. After father's death, our family needs to stick together more than ever. We can't let our own feelings and ambitions get in the way of that." It made him feel guilty, almost, to see the slight droop in Jon's shoulders. "I know you're eager. Trust me, I want to know why Euron and Amara are entangled with each others too. I know you want to know more than I do, but I can't let you run out there poisoned and tired."

It was quiet for a few moments. The sound of the crackling wood of the firepit was the only sound until Jon decided to speak again. His head shook, and he held his helm tighter. "I can't just lie around and wait, Robb." He nearly snorted hearing that. Robb certainly felt the same and chalked it up to them being blood for them both being so antsy even though a whole week hadn't gone by for their prescribed bedrest. "The more I lie there, the more I worry. I can't just not do anything. I must do something."

"And you think I like lying here myself?" Jon naturally smiled at that whilst taking on a rather guilty look, "I don't just as much as you do, but I must and you must too." Conjuring up his own smile, he tried to be reasonable. He didn't want to further guilt Jon, but he knew the words had to be said. "I'm sure Amara would be furious with me if she knew I let you go out there like that."

That reasoning seemed to sink into him. Robb could see the sudden change in expression and the fight in Jon died down a little like a weak flame. Robb didn't want to use her to stop him. He hardly thought mentioning her name alone would do his brother any good, especially due to the circumstance. Jon was always bearing such a sullen look, but now? His a full blossom of gloom with slump shoulders and his eyes gazing down. The guilt he felt increased then with such a look.

"I miss her." His voice was soft, almost like he wanted to keep that to himself.

Shifting his gaze elsewhere, Robb didn't want to look at the sadness on his brother's features. "We all do." He simply said, mainly because it was the truth. Robb missed her, he knew his mother did too, and he could tell that most of the men and ladies did. Lord Umber would tell Oberyn stories about their times of fun, and then he become so quiet that you would've been stilled. "But for now, brother, do what she would want. She'd want you to rest. At least do that for her if you won't do it for me."

By the time he looked back, his brother was exiting his tent. Before he completely left and flap fell down and weren't stalled by his hand, Jon turned back to look at him with unsure eyes. "Don't look at me like that," Robb told him with a shake of his head and a half smile. "I'll be fine. Lady Talisa will take care of me. She'll make her rounds to you and won't like to see or hear you've been out of bed."

 **...**

The sky looked almost as gloomy as she felt; dark and large clouds the only overcast since the early morning. The rain would soon come and it might halt the Ironborn from marching any time soon if they were lucky. Though she supposed if they wanted their attack to be a surprise, they might go along with it anyway. Amara kept herself crouched in the thick bushes of the last bit of surrounding forests. Up ahead there was nothing but land and hills with an army camp resting right before them. On her right was Asha, pressed to a tree with her head peeking out as little as possible so that she could see and not be seen all at once. To her left was Ygritte, bow and arrow ready in her hands in preparation. She seemed excited about it as well as Tormund. The thrill of battle was so easily glowing in their eyes.

"You're mad."

Her eyes trailed up to meet Asha's, who fixated her dark eyes right at her from their corners. The expression the Greyjoy's face was of pure frustration, and her tone was no higher tone than condescending.

Agitated, the healer couldn't help but contort her face angrily. "Why won't you say that again, Asha? I clearly must've not heard you the other nineteen times." She argued, rolling her eyes right at the end of her sentence before looking back at the war camp. The Ironborn were raising their Kraken banners and placed all their Greyjoy decorum on anything it could be placed on. This was truly the proper battle camp, much grander than anything those bandits could possibly muster nearly a year ago.

"Let's make it twenty then." Inhaling deeply, she exhaled thrice as long. "You're mad."

"How?" The healer sighed, almost unsure if she wanted to even listen to an explanation. She was so annoyed by Asha right now. The last thing anyone needed was for them to butt heads, but Asha sure was making everything so damn hard for her.

"Well, you've just explained to me how we're going to storm in my Uncle's camp, knock out a few soldiers, and wear their armor and parade as them.. You don't even end it there, you said we should march with them and kill him before they reach the Starks. That is the most stupidest, dangerous plan I have ever heard in all my years of life. And trust me, I've heard stupid and dangerous plans before but this one is standing right in the main top castle of a good boat."

"I don't care if you find it stupid. Whatever that can be done, I _will_ do. I will make sure King Robb doesn't die, but first I have to make sure that Jon doesn't either."

"So you're in love with him, huh?" Normally, she would've denied it or her body would've gotten stiff as a frozen block of ice. She couldn't feel the need to protect Jon's name and nor did she feel the need to cloak her feelings. Instead, she gave Asha a look that said everything. They had gotten close enough to get an idea of what the other thought and felt, and it relieved her to see Asha sigh and turn her head. She fully knew of Amara's feelings.

Crossing her arms, the female Greyjoy looked back at the camp. "I heard a phrase that love makes you crazy and I'm seeing it right before mine eyes." The healer smiled at that, "Doesn't mean I condone it, but I guess I get it. My little brother is o'er there. He's my priority too."

"Then help me." Amara stood and latched her hands on Asha's wrists, "You say my plan is mad then make it better. You know the Ironborn because you are one, so tell me what we can do."

Rolling her dark eyes, she gave Amara fragment of a smile. It was small, came quick and left just as, but it was something. "Your plan wasn't completely mad, I should say." Amara rose a brow questioningly, "It is possible to infiltrate the camp, but only a few of us." Her head then turned to Tormund.

"What?" Blinking twice, he furrowed his brows. "Why you looking at me like that?"

"You can't go." His expression became much more fiercer at that.

"And why not?!"

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes as Amara let her hands go of Asha's wrists. The Ironborn turned to look at the Free Folk group leader and then rested her hands on her waist, "Fuckin' look at you. You think we got armor the size of you? Your name is Giantsbane. Do you really think we got Giants like you walkin' around with us? You'd be the head of every damn battle if we did."

Ygritte and the rest of the Free Folk snorted, trying to contain their laughter with puffed cheeks and teary eyes. Amara tried her best to clamp her hand over her mouth and look away, trying to be polite even though it was growing hard to remain that way.

"Fine then I'll stay behind with a few men to watch over the hostage and little wolfrunt." That eased her, but she knew Arya would put up a fight. She wouldn't think it fair for her to be left behind the fight. Amara couldn't risk her getting killed out there because it was already dangerous enough.

"Good." Asha nodded, acting a little more cordial with Tormund. It was a little weird, but it made everyone a little more hopeful.

"Now how are we gonna get in this camp?" asked Ygritte, "I don't think they'll be moving anytime soon."

"If it intends to rain then they will before the ground gets too soft and muddy." Walking back towards the tree she used to shield her, she glanced at the men that were still setting up. "Ironborn are used to wet grounds, and I'm sure the Starks are used to harsh weathers too. But Iron and mud don't do so well, slipping and not getting back up is the death of a man."

Her eyes glanced over to the closest tent towards them, "If we be stealthy enough, we can knock down a few and slip some armor under the tents for each of you to take and dress in. Then we can listen 'round and see if we can learn anything."

"We still don't know who is Commanding." Amara threw in, "Euron would notice the slightest of changes. He's too perceptive."

"I don't think it's him, really. That could just be hopeful thinking on my part." Pushing herself away from the tree again, she turned her head towards Amara. "I take it that Euron would've already marched. He isn't that patient, and he doesn't like to show softness. He would've docked the boats right near 'em and start a slaughter."

"Then its…?

"Most likely. Victarion isn't that perceptive either; too narrow-minded for his own good." It only relieved her some to know that it wasn't Euron out there. That could only mean that her dream was showing her a vision of another day or maybe even several. All those men wouldn't kill Jon at once. It was probably showing the first obstacle to the last, and she feared that the woman in red would be no easy opponent. If the burning sword was real then how could Amara stop that?

"Are you ready?"

Her head whipped towards Asha, who was looking at her expectantly. She then looked back at the Ironborn banners that waved along with the cold, Autumn wind. "As ready as I'll ever be."

 **:::**

Amara had watched the patrols. There were two guards that roamed around one section of the perimeter. When they turned that first corner they hit every fifteen seconds, she dashed past them as soon as her mind caught the ninth second. Slowly moving herself down on all fours, she had crawled under the tent and realized immediately it wasn't one that belonged to the soldiers. They were usually bunked and this one only had one bed, which meant that it was for a higher ranking officer. Her eyes looked around to see if there was a soul there, but it was quiet, which allowed her room to stand.

Looking every which way, she wondered if there was something of value in here. A map or a letter of some sort? Anything that withheld information that could be used against them. As she lifted books, parchments, and looked on every available shelf, she found nothing. And she knew that she couldn't spent her time blindly looking around because she would have to meet with Asha and Halleck, who were going to gather as many uniforms as they could and send them back to the other Wildlings that would going to battle with them. Only the Gods know that Halleck was more than eager to slit some of the soldiers throats, awake or asleep.

Peeling only an inch of the tent's flap back, she had saw a much more greater view of the center of the camp. Many Ironborn were walking around, using whetstone for their swords or sitting around fires to eat or chat with a drink. They didn't look like they were off to fight any time soon, which made Amara wonder if they were saving the fight for tomorrow or into the night.

Suddenly, a hand slapped itself over her mouth and her back was pushed up against the hard wall of a chest. Their other arm held her against them and she found herself squirming and stifling a scream. Her eyes tried to look at their corners to see the face of the man that held her against them. They brought her further back into the tent, but when she got her heel sunken right down on their boot to hit their toes, they had let go of her.

"Ouch!" He yelled, not loud enough to draw attention luckily. By the time he opened his eyes, she already had her dagger unsheathed and the sharp tip of the blade inching dangerously close to his. "I'm not your enemy or at least I hope not, young lady." He raised his hands in surrender. How many gold dragons would a person to say it possible for a girl of 5'0 had a tall Ironborn by daggerpoint and he surrenders?

Amara narrowed her eyes skeptically, Not halfway believing that this man found her so intimidating to easily give up. No matter, she wouldn't press the thought. "Who are you?"

"You infiltrate My camp and dare ask who I am? I believe there is a certain etiquette—" A knick. He was given a clean knick, and a trail of blood came trickling down his skin. It shocked him to say at least. His hand wiped to see that there was indeed blood smudged on the tip of his fingers.

"I said, who are you?" Her voice was much sterner and her eyes near ablaze. She had no time for his jokes. If he didn't take her serious before, she was sure he would not seeing that she mind inflicting any more damage.

"If you want to get to the point then… Fine." The long, black-haired man had swept his hair back with a quick movement of his head. He kept his hands still raised so that she could see them and not take any movement a threat. "Lord Baelor Blacktyde."

She had no idea who he was or House Blacktyde. Amara gave him a once over, with a look that expected that he might tell just how important he was. "...So?" She found herself saying rather childishly, "Why should I care?"

He chuckled at that, possibly amused by her ignorance. "Blacktyde is a noble house, my dear. And a bannerman for House Greyjoy." That was easy to suspect and she didn't see how this information would be any good for her. Unless, of course, she held him captive. He might be of some worth, right? "You'd want me better alive than you'd want me dead. I assure you."

Keep her brow arched, Amara let her curiosity get the better of her. "And why is that, Lord Blacktyde?"

"You want to kill Euron Greyjoy too, don't you? I think you've stumbled upon the right person; someone who wants to kill Euron just as eagerly."

That sounded too good to be true. Amara immediately doubted it and mentally dubbed him a liar. Something kept nagging at her that there was a possibility that he hated Euron just as much as she did. If he was a turncloak then it would only work in her favor against the Greyjoys. "Just why should I believe that?"

"Because this?" His eyes looked all around to emphasize his point, "This camp is all a mere distraction, my dear." Confused, her brows furrowed and she slowly lowered her dagger. What could he possibly mean by that? A distraction? A distraction for what? "We're not really here to fight the Starks. We're here to distract them into thinking we are."

Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise, her head shaking with doubt. "W-Why would they do that? That doesn't make any sense."

Baelor smiled at that, eyes crinkling mirthfully. "Euron isn't even here. Go on, look for him, but you'd only be proving me right. I followed him here like a fool, but I found out that he's really going to meet with Tywin Lannister. He parted the group halfway through sailing in order for him to play his little mind games."

"What?!" For some reason, it didn't seem so shocking. Even though seemed so unlike Euron to join hands with someone, to have allies, he could be unpredictable at times. He was usually far too arrogant and believed he could do everything himself without the aid of others. And if he did get himself some aid, he usually killed them after their use was exhausted. So why did he think to join Tywin Lannister? Was the Greyjoy army so small that he thought it better to join Tywin?

"Its true." Baelor insisted, "Euron, Victarion… Neither one of them are here. You've merely wasted your time if your cause was to end one of them."

Although Amara felt relieved, she was utterly frustrated twice as much. After what happened with Zola and everything else, she wanted to be done with Euron and now she didn't even get the chance. It made her angry at herself that she didn't end him at Pyke, not utilizing all the chances that she had. The only thing that could possibly make her happy was the sole fact that Jon was safe now or at least for a little while longer. That fact alone made her heavy heart feel a thousand times lighter.

"I don't suppose you were working alone, are you?"

Giving him a dull stare, she rolled her eyes. "Like I would tell you that, Lord Blacktyde."

"Smart." Was his reply, as he watched her sheath her dagger and then walked towards the entrance of the tent. "You can stay the night if you want. My bed always welcomes a pretty face."

"No thank you." She said to him with a wry smile, "I'm not very much interested."

Amara had to find Asha now to tell her that this was all plan to get the Stark riled up. It was to leave them unable to figure out what Euron was truly doing and possibly weakened. A Greyjoy and Lannister alliance was a recipe for disaster, and it would only come back to bite them in the most brutal of ways.

Her head slowly turned to look back at Baelor, who was leaning at the edge of the table with folded arms and his eyes watching her every movement. "Why did you help me?"

"Like I said, I hate Euron. I don't want him on the seastone chair. He isn't fit for a king, he's just a madman who doesn't need any power."

It seemed so strange to hear that he was so proudly against him. Her eyes kept searching the man's face for any trace of a lie, but she couldn't find any. "Then who do you think should be on it?"

A sigh escaped him, "I believed Asha Greyjoy, even though I know the fight will be hard for her. Most men can't handle to see a woman in power, but I think Balon shaped her nicely. She truly is fit to be a King."

Not a Queen, but a King, he said. The respect he held for her was high and Amara contemplated if it was okay to tell him that Asha was the one that helped her here. Amara looked back through the flaps before turning to face him, "Then would that you mean you would join Asha as she allies herself with King Robb Stark?"

Surprised, the man completely stood upright with wide eyes. A grin then broke out on his face as he raked his fingers through his hair, "The squid got herself that lucky?"

"Not yet." Asha needed allies, and Amara wanted to give her that for all Asha sacrificed. Not only that, Asha was her friend she wanted her to succeed. "Will you help her?"

"By the Grace of the Seven, I'll light Euron's ass aflame if it meant Asha got to sat on that uncomfortable seat."

With a laugh, she decided that trusting him, for now, might be the wisest decision. "Will you becoming with us? To meet Robb Stark?"

"And openly declare myself an enemy? I'd love to." He laughed as he then shrugged his shoulders, "Wouldn't you like me better on the inside?"

That made more sense. He could watch every movement Euron made and report it back to them. Not only that, if they wanted to try something like this again and possibly make it go righter and more thorough, he would be the better ally for that. "You aren't afraid of getting caught?"

He shook his head, "If I die, I die. The Seven will take care of me until I do." Most Ironborn believed in the Drowned God, not Baelor though. Even though it piqued her interest, she knew now wasn't the time to be finding out his life story and should be spent getting back to Asha and then to Robb and Jon.

There was so much they had to warn them about that it was literally driving her crazy to hold all this information. All the obstacles that stood in their way? How didn't they fall apart from it all? Not just that, how was she going to leave now? Walking out front didn't seem to make much sense and she didn't think go back the way she came was the safest option.

"Do you have something for me to disguise myself with?" Amara asked rather sheepishly, lightly scratching the side of her face.

Baelor merely snorted and then shook his head, "As long as you don't knick me again for getting too close."

 **...**

"You know, I didn't think I would ever grow to like Lord Karstark." said Oberyn, having half a smile on his face. "While we were preparing for what I hoped to be a fight, he and I made a very great speech together."

"All the men were so riled up after hearing it." Torrhen sighed, "When father said 'Slice their Kraken heads' I thought I was just imagining that."

Dacey wrapped her arms around her middle as she laughed, tilting her head back. "I couldn't believe it, but it worked. Though it has me wondering what their real motive is. Do you think they are trying to stall us or something?"

"Whatever it is," Smalljon slowly glanced his eyes over at Theon, who was sitting by himself in a corner by the fire. "I don't trust it."

Hearing that comment, as well as feeling the heated glare sent his way, Theon rose a brow. "Is that s'pose to mean somethin' Little Umber?" Standing up, his arms crossed over his chest. "If you have a problem with me then why don't you just come out with it?"

As soon as Smalljon stood with a retort, Dara slowly placed herself protectively in front of Theon. "Knock if off, Smalljon. Theon has nothing to do with what's going on. He's with us…" Slowly looking over her shoulder, she gave him a small, hopeful smile. "Right?"

All he did was stare at her for a short while before averting his eyes. Without a word, he just walked off and left them there in silence. "I told you, Dara. He can't be trusted. That's his family over there, you think he's gonna stay so loyal? The King thinks that their friendship will keep him in line, but blood is much more thicker than water."

The Dayne watched Theon with worried eyes before glancing back at the Umber boy. Jon had watched the whole event unfold and saw the way Dacey remained quiet when she was usually the first to speak. It seemed that one by one, the camp was starting to become wary of Theon. He found himself guilty of that too, and honestly felt bad about it. Theon hadn't turned on them or even seem chary enough too, but it kept nagging at him that at any given moment he could. That was his family… Family always seemed to come first at the end, didn't it?

"My prince!" Torrhen and the others immediately bowed their heads at the sight of him, making him walk out the shadows he was halfway in. "What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be sleep?"

"I just wanted a little walk. I don't think fresh air is going to kill me." He kept it light, making the others calm down a little even though he was sure they were worried about what he thought of their attitudes toward Theon. He wanted to scold them. How could he if he also felt the same though? He'd be a hypocrite, but it would be unprincely of him to let them get away with it. "Ease up on, Theon, will you?"

None of them had said a thing as Oberyn finally took a bite of an apple that he was cleaning with his shirt a few minutes ago. "Tell me, Stark Prince, do you see no reason to be so cautious about him?" He inquired after he swallowed the chunk he bit. Jon's eyes turned to look at him and then absently down at the fire that still kept going.

"I really don't know." It was an honest reply, "But Robb trusts him, so I'll try to as well." He hoped that was enough for him and the rest of them, but they still remained unsure.

Dara was probably the only one that was worried for Theon out the group. Her Old Valyria eyes kept looking in the direction he left before sadly looking at his own. He would imagine that Amara wouldn't like how he was treated, she did stand up for him before. With a sigh, he shook his head and decided not to think much more about it. The most important thing was to figure out what they Greyjoys outside their army were up to.

Lord Umber had come hurrying over, nearly out of breath. "My prince, it's urgent."

"What is it?" Furrowing his brows, he prepared himself for what he assumed might be a battle. But the look on Umber's face softened all that feeling away. The man was happy, smiling even.

"Princess Arya is here!"

His body froze with shock before a smile broke out his face. "Where is she?! Take me to her!" Lord Umber led the way, taking them to the section of the camp where the healer tents were. He felt his breath stolen, almost like he thought what was before him wasn't real and that Lord Umber was only joking. Lord Umber wouldn't have played a game like that, but Jon found it hard to believe that after all this time his little sister was returned to him unharmed; alive. When he caught sight of his short and mussed, little sister, he couldn't help but let his face split into a s mile.

When her big and grey eyes gaze up to look at him, her smile was so big and her eyes looked like they were prickling with tears. Why did he think she grew after all this time spent apart? She had a nameday without him, he realized. Her birthday had gone and he wasn't there to spend it with her. Trying to control his own emotions, he kept a steady pace as he closed the distance between them.

Like it had a mind of its own, his hand tousled her already messy hair. "Little sister," He said and he wore her eyes shined when he did it. Tears did fall, he saw them, and he tried his best to not let his eyes mirror hers. "I missed—"

"you." She finished the sentence and without another second to spare, she jumped and let her skinny arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Oh, his little sister. She smelled like a wild forest; the grass and the trees, and the fish you could catch in the cold rivers. How long was she out there that he felt like the forest he saw all those months ago was still with them? He held her tightly against him, almost afraid that she might disappear if he had let her go.

"Just where have you been?" Jon finally breathed out, kissing the side of her head as he felt her nuzzle into the side of his neck. "You had me worried; Robb, your mother most of all. Sansa wrote frequently asking if we found you."

Her little frame shook with a sob he was sure she held in for a long time. He hushed her with a calm hand stroking her back, "You know, I've been here… and there." Her humor hadn't gone anywhere, and he chuckled at the answer. "I've been almost everywhere."

"Everywhere but here." Arya pulled away from him briefly, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her tattered-sleeved arm.

"I wanted to get here as soon as I could!" Her head then turned towards the group of Wildlings, "They helped me get here. So be nice to them, okay?" Be nice to Wildlings? Jon never thought he would hear that at all at any given time in his life. As he observed them, they all stood there, albeit awkwardly but seemingly happy to see that Arya was. They must've cared for her enough to have smiles because she had one of her own too.

Making his grey eyes shift their attention back to her, he rose a brow questioningly. "How did you find yourself tangled up with Wildlings?"

"It's a long story, but call them Free Folk. They don't like to be called Wildlings." She quickly explained as he let her down on her feet, "Where is Amara? She hasn't come back yet?"

"What do you mean? Amara hasn't been with us in the Westerlands…"

"No! She was with me!" Taken back, his eyes looked every which way in search for her. "She and Asha and a couple of Free Folk went into the Greyjoy camp and—"

"They went into the camp!?" To say he was infuriated was an understatement. He was halfway ready to get on Red Hare and ride into the enemy camp and search for her. He may have thought her reckless and making so many destructive decisions, but he was about to make one of his own.

As soon as he was about to call a search and ready his horse, Lord Karstark and a few of the Rivermen had brought a chain of shackled Ironborn. He glanced at the group of Wildlings and Arya in bewilderment, before looking back at him. "We have some men trying to trespass into our camp. We caught them trying to sneak through the less guarded area."

Arya raised her brows as they were forced to kneel, "Asha? Halleck?" The both of them lifted their heads. Since they were chained, they couldn't move the Kraken face of their helm up and their eyes could barely be seen through the dark eye-holes. "Let them go. They're my friends, they helped save me."

Lord Karstark scoffed, offended to have orders barked at him. "I don't take orders from a little, Wildling boy."

"I'm not a boy and I'm not a Wildling!" She spat as feisty as Jon always remembered her to be, "I'm a girl and my name is Arya Stark!"

Jon couldn't help but grin at the old bannerman's expression. How his eyes were wide as dinner plates with shock before he bent his knee in apology, "My princess! I-I hadn't known…"

"Please," Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. "Please don't call me that."

"Let them go," He ordered, "They aren't our prisoners. They helped save my little sister and returned her to us. They deserve hospitality, not imprisonment."

With a stiff nod, Lord Karstark ordered the underlings to key their shackles unlocked. By the time they all stood, the one known as Asha had rubbed her wrists. He once heard Theon speak about her, his sister. It was long ago, when they were much younger, and when the wound was much deeper when he had been taken from his family.

"She isn't here?" Asha removed her Kraken helm, "Then she must be back at the camp. You should let us go back there, we'll come back with her. I already have a good idea of how it is mapped out and we already have the armor to disguise ourselves."

"I'll be going with you." His eyes then looked down to meet Arya's, who had a rather worried expression. "I'll be back. In the meantime, take a bath and go see Robb. He'll be really happy to see you."

She wanted to argue, he could see it in her eyes. Surprisingly enough, she just slumped her shoulders and nodded, obeying him. It wasn't like her but perhaps she understood the graveness of the situation because normally she would've been trying to tag along. He watched her go while he told the others to wait while he gathered his things, specifically his sword.

 **:::**

They decided to walk since it was only a mile away. Jon found himself tired halfway through due to his condition, even though he chose to walk instead of taking his horse. He braved through it though, pretending that everything was alright with him and they seemed to believe it for now. He had only taken a select few with him; Asha Greyjoy, Halleck, and the other Wildlings that were already dressed as Ironborn soldiers. He also brought with him Eddard and Torrhen Karstark, Smalljon, and Dara and Dacey for good measure. He made sure to leave Lord Umber behind in case things had gone left and they initiated a whole battle.

By the time they reach the Greyjoy camp, it seemed as if all the soldiers had been standing and waiting for them. His eyes squinted curiously and focused on each and everything with high alert. None of the soldiers moved and had their weapons were sheathed, but how could they possibly know that they were coming? Asha had said neither of her uncles were in the camp and she had no idea who was running command. Something seemed off and he began to grow worried where Amara might be in this situation.

As they made their way further in, they were told to walk into the large Commander's tent before them. Only Jon and Asha were allowed in, and the rest were told to wait outside. It took Dacey to convince him to go forward with it and to remind him that there were five thousand men circling the camp should things go wrong. With that thought in mind, he looked to the female Greyjoy, who set her jaw as they were both escorted inside.

The tent was scarcely except a lone chair that a man was sitting on. He had only one eye that could be seen while the blue one was fixated right at them. The only thing that had Jon curling his fist fires of rage were swirling in his dark and narrowed eyes. His fist clenched tightly as he shifted his teeth, eyes catching sight of a long-haired man carrying what he prayed to the Old Gods was a sleeping Amara. He didn't think her dead, he kept hoping that he was seeing the rise and fall of her chest within this distance.

"Sweet niece, how nice to see you again." How he tried his best to sound as if he genuinely meant that had made the mood all the more foreboding. He then sat himself up, pressing his back to the chair as he slowly gazed down at the silver goblet in his hand. "You really thought you could fool me, didn't you? Entering my camp like I would never even know."

"What have you done to her?!" He didn't care about their disastrous uncle and niece relationship. And he surely didn't give a damn about Euron feeling slighted. "Why is she like that?!"

"Oh, she's merely sleeping." Euron answered nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders. "I had my loyal Baelor put her to sleep for me. Isn't that right, Lord Blacktyde?"

"Yes, Your Grace." He quickly answered, giving a nod of his head.

Sleeping? If it weren't for Asha grabbed his hand, he would've yanked his sword from its scabbard and let the steel cut right into Euron's only eye. "Why? What do you want, Uncle? Surely this is not all for games."

"For peace and quiet." Pressing his free-hand that was curled in a loose fist against his cheek as he propped his elbow to the arm of the chair, he rose a brow. "Preferably, I'd want you, him, and the Wolf King dead. As your kind, shouldn't you obey? No, you want what I have. Not just that, you've got too much of the old fool of my brother in you to do that, don't you?"

"Why Amara then? What do you want with her?" Jon awaited to hear the answer, his hand slowly coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. He wouldn't move, just yet, and Asha certainly was not taking her hand away from anytime soon.

Glancing back and forth between the both of them, he had taken a small swig of his wine. "Didn't you know, sweet niece? The healer is a princess; a YiTish princess." Jon caught sight of the surprise on Asha's face, seeing her eyes grow in size and her mouth nearly hang open in shock. "Do you know how much gold there is to be had? And her brother has a reward for anyone who finds her and returns her. The reward could probably pay the debt the Iron throne owes and more, and what better way to get the riches and keep it than to marry her?"

"I've kept going back and forth; 'Should I marry her or not?' She has a stubborn streak that amuses and annoys me all at once. She's a little too crafty for her own good, but her own little feelings get ahead of her at the end. Then she abandons the people that need her most. Her little friend, my whore, had to get her tongue cut from her throat because of her. And what did Amara do? She ran off with you."

"That wasn't Amara's fault, Euron. I'm the one who took Amara, she was barely even able to do anything with the condition you had her in."

Pulling the sword from its sheath, Jon pointed to blade at Euron without a moment's notice. "Pick a God and pray, Euron Greyjoy, because this is your last day. So say your prayers to the Drowned Gods all the way to the Old Ones for I'm going to bleed you dry."

* * *

 **A/N:** Greyjoy-Lannister alliance? Sounds much more scarier than Tyrell-Lannister. Don't be mad at me. It is a reunion, I said it there was... except one is just unconscious is all.


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note:** This fight was sooo hard for me to write. Like, you guys don't even knoooow!

 **Minstorai** : Haha, I feel you. I just couldn't allow them to do that, especially Jon. I think Robb probably would though if he were in that type of situation. I mean he practically lost the war because of love, but Jon? Jon chose duty and ended up losing his love. Even in an AU, although he would regret and hate himself for it, he wouldn't choose her first at that time. His heart would want to but his mind wouldn't let him go through with it. It saddens me how Jon really, really always chooses the right thing to do even at the expense of his own happiness. That's why I love him so much. But since she was at a reasonable distance and the Greyjoys at this point are their enemy, his duty and his heart were hand-in-hand.

* * *

Euron's lone eye had seized him before he glanced back at Amara from the corner of it, "Secrets after secrets. She's good at hiding things." As he stood, hand resting on the hilt of his own blade, he eyed Jon's sword that was kept steadily aimed at him. "I didn't show you her to hand her over to you, bastard. That's what you are, isn't it? Lord Stark's bastard son who finally got himself the family name from his brother. Don't you ever wonder why your father didn't give it to you? There must've been a reason, possibly shame. You were the stain to that man's honor, weren't you?"

Jon knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get inside his head. Theon had once said that the man liked to play mind games, leaving his opponents clumsy with rage and having them insecure. The only thing that had Jon so angry was the condition that Amara was in, but he couldn't let that rile him up more than it already had either. He had to stay focused. He had to save her. "You thought letting me see her like would weaken me, didn't you?" The Greyjoy looked at him curiously, "All you did was make me realize that my intentions right now is to defeat you and protect her. Her being here only tells me I know I can do both of those things."

The King of the Iron Islands roared with sudden laughter, his eye shut close as he tilted his head back and laughed. "How rich! You humor me, bastard. You're going to defeat me and protect her?! The fact that you think can even touch me makes me think you'd be well as a jester. Tell you what, boy, if I let you live it is because I'm being compassionate to my salt-wife. I've hurt her enough. I'd ought to be a good husband to her now."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" Firm; confident. He refuse to let Euron think that he could control him by mere words.

Loosening his sword, Euron let the silver of his blade be revealed as the sharp end of it was pointed directly towards him. A second hadn't properly gone by when Jon leapt forward, his blade roaring towards Euron. Jon's attack was caught by Euron with a clang of steel but he did not prepare himself for the sudden heavy dosage of strength that Jon had placed in his swing.

Their swords rattled and shook, Euron tried to throw him off, but it was Jon that shoved the Greyjoy back and immediately charged forward with a second strike to go. "Grghh!" Euron grunted as he rushed to intercept Jon's attack, but he was too slow.

Their blades collided, and Euron's sword went spinning out of his grip and landing right onto the ground. He stood there for a moment, looking down at his empty hands in disbelief. It was like it was the first time ever in his life that someone had managed to knock a sword from his grasp. "You disarmed me?" His shock hadn't worn off as Jon kept his sword pointed at him.

In a fit, Euron had went to grab his sword but Jon sunk his into the outstretched hand, pinning it down to the floor. He clenched his teeth as if to keep what Jon knew to be a painful cry from being freed. His eye shot upward at him, entirely bloodshot red. "Damn you!" His teeth grounded as angry, throbbing veins began to protrude from his pale neck.

A small pool of dark blood began to grow in size beneath the skewered hand. With a vicious snark, akin to a beast, the Greyjoy grabbed hold of Jon's sword not being mindful that he'd been cutting the palm of his other hand. He jerked his bleeding hand free without care, but that wasn't what shocked Jom. No. His eyes had immediately broadened at the sight of bleeding hand, that only had a few drops of blood drip from it before it began to sew up, closing together. Never in the entirety of his life had he seen someone's body heal itself, and it frightened him to the core. In fact, he took several steps back in his shock.

"You filthy, worthless bastard! Spilling my blood? A king's blood!" His face twisted with untempered rage as flecks of spit flew from his lips as he screamed. "Death is not enough for you!" He declared, "When I am through with you, your body will be carved into a thousand pieces of quivering meat. Not even your Young Wolf brother will be able to recognize your hacked corpse!"

His eye, that once was once a normal and bright hue of blue, had suddenly darkened into the black shade of night. Jon for the life of him couldn't figure out if Euron was even human or some sort of monster right now. Whatever he was, he couldn't be left alive and Jon had no other choice in the matter but to kill him. It was either fight or die, and he couldn't die just yet. There was a thousand things for him to do. "After all this time, I'll finally be able to be the immortal king that I was always meant to be. Drinking that disgusting Shade of the Evening day after day has finally proved its worth. Consider it an honor, bastard, that you get to witness what I've been slaving for."

The anger that had once consumed him only just mere moments ago disappeared. It had been replaced by an eerie calm. Tightening the grip of his sword, Jon swallowed that lump of fear that crawled itself up his throat before it began to eat at him. His grey eyes gazed back at Amara for a quick second, seeing that she hadn't moved and remain in the arms of that man. He too was shocked at the outcome of this, hardly able to keep his eyes off Euron. Jon's mind began to race with the possibility that Euron had harmed Amara with sometime of magic he seemed to possess. What if she had been put under a spell or curse?

Just the terror of that thought had him launching himself toward Euron again, his sword slicing soundlessly through the air, but—

His sword only met air—Euron had vanished.

No, he hadn't vanished. Jon could still feel his presence, but what he concluded made him fear the Greyjoy even more. Euron had now come to possess a speed much faster than his eyes could follow. And if he could move that quickly then...

A glint of silver quickly came and before he could process it all, blood came spilling from his chest. He could barely register what was happening. He hadn't even seen Euron strike, and yet now a thin, red line of a wound gaped across his chest and blood was pouring out of it. Jon coughed, and more blood splattered to the floor.

"What happened Stark? What happened to making me pray to the Gods for what I've done? Where was all the strength you had moments ago?" Using the tip of his blood blade to raise Jon's chin, the face splitting grin remained broad on his face. "If you don't start fighting me soon, you'll die from blood loss, bastard. If you die then you know what happens once you do, I'll go and slay your king brother and before the night comes I'll be in-between the legs of your woman. It's about time I have myself a child of my own. One that I'll actually care about and groom 'till I marry a proper iron woman."

Jon's blood had painted the ground a dark, horrible red. He could barely stand since he had already lost so much blood. "Haack…" He coughed again, blood spilling between his lips profusely. He dug his sword into the floor, and used it haul himself to his feet, gore staining his Stark armor and chainmail. Blood was literally everywhere; he could smell it, see it, taste it, and feel it all at once. "What's wrong? Can't bring yourself to stand any longer?"

Euron's hand reached and grabbed a fist of Jon's hair and twisted his head back. "What was all that you were saying a moment ago? How you would protect her, and defeat me? Did I hear you wrong? Because you sounded so confident, and yet all you've given me is… this. What happened to all that fiery determination, Stark Prince?"

The sound of Jon's breathing was a sickening gurgle, but the light in his eyes was undimmed, and he glared back at Euron without caving into defeat. "Well, I do happen to be quite the generous man. If you apologize to me, then I will spare your life. I rarely give people that chance, it comes very rare, but I did tell you I'll be compassionate for my intended. Perhaps it would be better suited for you to bow down before me. Press your face to the floor, and apologize for being so rude."

As Jon pried his lips to speak, no words could flow from his mouth. The only thing that flowed blood, copiously, and making every tastebud in his mouth be coated with it. This had been one of the worst feelings that he ever suffered through. No doubt, he was sure, that he was bound to die here.

"Hm? What was that?" Euron leaned so that his ear was closer to him, mocking his inability to speak without a mouth full of blood. "I'm afraid I can't hear you."

"Fuck… you." It took all his strength to summon to just to say that, but it still had him choking and spitting out the crimson liquid he wished he wasn't bleeding out.

The throbbing veined revealed itself on Euron's neck once again. With an untempered snarl, he slammed Jon's face into the hard ground. "How dare you speak to me like that, you disgusting piece of shit!" He roughly shoved Jon's face deeper into the earth's floor, trying to hold back another snarl but was far too enraged to contain himself. "The weak bow down before the strong or else their pathetic lives are put to an end! A worthless bastard doesn't get to speak to me that!"

His chest felt like it was on fire since not only was dirt and grass being shoved in his face, it was also dirtying his wound. He tried not react, to not show his pain whether it be groaning or grimacing. He didn't want to give Euron any satisfaction of seeing him suffer; he couldn't let that facade of confidence go. Before he knew it, his ears were filled with the sound of fury and torment, louder than he had ever heard any man scream.

His eyes caught sight of Euron on the ground, wriggling around like a fish out of water and trying to pull out the dagger that was sticking out from the only eye he had. "I promised you death," That was Amara voice he could hear among Euron's wailing. Propping himself upright with his arms, he twisted his face in a grimace as he tried to push the pain away and get himself back to his feet.

He staggered a bit, but he was able to see Amara dragging his own sword across the ground with a cold, hardened stare. It seemed frightening, to see her like that as if she had no regard for life, and in her eyes was a wild storm of turbulent waters; like a vortex almost. "And now you shall have it." She rose the sword with both her hands around the handles before she brought the sharp end down to his neck, cutting the flesh straight through it. Euron's body had shook once, may even twice, before he became completely stiff in frozen face of death.

It was a gruesome sight. He had a dagger clean in his eye and then a sword pierced through his throat. There was no way that he had the chance to heal himself now, if he was able or Jon had imagined it all. He wasn't sure if he ever wanted to speak of what he saw to anyone because he feared that they might think him crazy.

Amara kept staring at his corpse, almost like she wasn't through with it yet. He watched her pull the dagger by the handle with trouble before completely yanking it out of his eye, leaving the tip of the blade dripping with blood. She looked ready to stab him again, but Jon caught her wrist to stop her. It was like she was avoiding to look at him with her eyes becoming filled with a glossy sheen. Jon had no idea what Euron had put her through and she looked as if she wanted to release all the pain and anger out on his corpse, which wouldn't have amounted to anything.

 **:::**

His eyes found themselves finally able to fully open, after they felt so heavy all the other times he tried to wake. His eyes still had a sheet of blur over them, with a rub and a couple of blinks, he found his focus gathering and everything becoming all too clear. A shot of pain spread through his chest as he tried to sit himself upright and he found himself immediately hissing as he did. His eyes looked down to see him barechested and a bandage covering the entirety of the wound he was given by Euron Greyjoy. He supposed that it should've felt worse, almost as painful as they day he got it, but it had numbed some and not it was just really sore. His tent was empty. Part of him wondered if he had dreamed everything, considering how he swore he thought he saw the man heal himself.

Jon hoped that Amara would've stayed with him. If he were to wake, he'd like to see that she was sleeping by his bedside, waiting for him to wake, but he supposed that she gotten impatient waiting for him. Amara probably tried to help all the other soldiers now that she was back and she couldn't spend all her time focusing on him and him alone. That wouldn't have been fair, even though he slightly wished that she could be selfish about him just this once.

Throwing his legs over the bed, he hunched a bit as he stood and rubbed his chest over the bandage. If he thought he needed bed rest from being poisoned, he was sure he was going to need even more now with this. He wouldn't fight it this time, however. He knew he very much needed it for his body to properly heal, but he was too curious as to what was going on. As a prince, he couldn't let himself remain unaware. He had to make sure that everything was right with Robb because that was his king, but his brother first.

Pulling a simple, black tunic over his head, he threw on some boots and raised the flap of his tent to gaze outside. It was raining, sprinkling to be exact. Little droplets of water had hit against the surface of his skin, sliding down like a river down his cheek as he kept himself peering out. It took him by surprise that after a couple of minutes, the water droplets had grown in size and would fall more frequently from the sky. Sprinkling had turned into a torrential downpour, and the air became so cold that one could see their breath.

Coming towards his tent was Amara, who looked much different now since she was bathed and dressed in the Stark army healer's uniform. It was a plain, grey dress with long sleeves and green at the hems of the sleeves and the lining around the neck. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail in efforts to make her look more plain since their own healers did not go for extravagance, but Jon still thought of her so pretty then. Even when her hair was wild, tangled, with branches and leaves stuck in her hair when he saw her unconscious. Even when he saw her after killing someone, trembling with rage and pain with a bloody dagger in her hand; there was never a time where Jon hadn't thought her beautiful.

A cloth was over her head to shield her from the rain, but when she looked up to see him, she had froze in place. The deep blue waters that were her eyes slowly met his, like he wanted them to after the time spent apart. The time that moved so slow like long and tired years finally came to an end. The time that was nearly spent killing him from the inside because he hadn't known where she was or if she was even alive. Even the brief time of knowing she was in the hands of danger and he had a war to fight to the time where she was so close and still so far. To the last time where he wanted to desperately rip her from that man's arm and hold her, taking whatever was to come as the consequence. All of that didn't matter now as she was staring at him as if he was the only person in the world right then.

She had let the cloak fall in her surprise and the rain began to soak her hair almost immediately along with wetting every part of her skin; droplets were even hanging from the tips of her eyelashes. It was hard to tell now, what was the rain or what were her tears. It was even harder to tell why her eyes made both ( the rain and her tears ) look like waterfalls as they traveled down to her chin from her eyes. She stood there, getting drenched whilst being as still as a statue, with a smile that had enough intensity to outshine the sun. It was almost as if the clouds would part right this instant and her smile would bring light to the Westerlands.

"I missed you." He blurted out, finding no other words or something witty and charming to say. He was never good with women, but that was how he felt. Those were his honest feelings. Still, the situation and absence they suffered through called for something much more sweeter than to say what was such a dull fact.

With slow footfalls, he made his way towards her, lessening the distance between them. Her hand rose to wipe her face and stopped midway because his hand had been quicker. He wiped away her tears with a quick stroke of his thumb, just like all the times she had done that for him. "I suppose I missed you too." She sounded rather lofty, he knew better than to think she meant it.

"You suppose?" His lips broke out into a smile. He pretended to take a offense and turn to walk away and before he could even get a good few steps away, she grabbed his arm to halt him and moved herself back in front of him

"I did!" She sounded scared, like he actually believed her sarcastic reply. "I really, really did." As she sniffed, he couldn't help but to find it cute the way her eyes crinkled as she wrinkled her nose to try to control the outpour of emotion she wanted to hold back. "I missed you too."

"Are you going to push me?"

Amara twisted her face in confusion, looking at him in bewilderment. "No, why would I do that?" The way her eyes became big and childish made him laugh as his thumb traced along her cheekbone. It almost felt surreal to know that she was here, right here before him. It almost felt like too much time went by and that he was still lying in his bed before his encounter with Euron after Robb's plea.

"Good because I'm going to kiss you, and I don't think it wise for a healer to push the wounded." His lips bound themselves to hers, hardly letting her be able to catch her breath as he swallowed her laugh. When Jon thought of kissing her for the first time, he didn't think that it be in this kind of setting. Where he was so happy to see the sight of her after months that left his heart aching and his mind foggy. All his time was spent thinking of what he was supposed to do while swimming in the thoughts of what he yearned.

The rain was cold, sliding down their face and chilling each spot of their skin that it touched. He couldn't feel it anymore though, everything was numbed, even the chilled gust of the wind. It was as if all focus was on how warm her lips were and how they set a fire against his own.

He wasn't sure why she pulled away from him, and why her eyes looked as if they wanted to devour the sight of him. Her small hands cradled his face, her thumb sliding along the skin beneath his eyes as she choked out a sob. He couldn't tell what she thinking or feeling, but he did see a hint of frustration. He knew right then that she suspected to be angry that she left. He was angry, he still was in some ways, but how could he act on it now? Not when she was right here, unharmed and never to be separated from him again.

His grey eyes met hers and saw happiness fully sketch itself on her face. Then a sudden look of anger came from out of nowhere and she pinched his face, twisting each cheek between her pointer finger and thumb. "Ow! W-Why are you pinchin—ah! Ow!"

"You were poisoned! Why didn't you tell me?! Also, you should be resting! Do you want to die?!" Jon could admit he deserved her anger and her pinching. It wasn't fair though since what she done was far worse; leaving, by herself, and getting herself kidnapped by Euron Greyjoy and then going into his camp to be in danger all over again. He let all her faults smooth over, but she couldn't do that for him? It was a childish thought, but these pinches hurt.

"I didn't want to scare you and I was too busy trying to rescue you." Jon reasoned, feeling her fingers becoming looser and looser. It was throbbing, possibly red from the force of it all, and he caught sight of her pout. "You didn't even give me the chance to tell you!" Although he was lying through his teeth, the timing did work in his favor. He had been sleeping for days, trying to recover from what happened in the past week or… how many days had gone, he hadn't even known. "Could you let me go?!"

Letting go of his face, it hadn't eased her out of her anger and she kept her sharp glare. Her eyes remained narrowed and looked away from him like a pouting child. "Poisoned and wanting to fight Euron Greyjoy? What kind of madman are you?"

"Like you're one to talk." He arched his eyebrow, catching sight of the sudden shame coming across her face. "You've been doing reckless things for months now."

"This isn't about me." Amara tried to ease the blame away, and he found himself laughing at how she tried to turn the tables back on him. Gods, he really did miss her. He forgot how easy it was to laugh and forget about things for a short while. Where everything made sense for a little even when what they were talking about made little sense itself.

"You're awake!" He heard a shout, both their heads turning to look at Arya as she came running with her foot hitting the muddy ground hard. She jumped and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he ignore the sudden shot of pain from the tightness of her hug. "Wait, I'm not hurting you, am I?" She quickly pulled back, her big eyes searching his face for any trace of pain.

"I'm fine." He lied confidently, letting her give him another squeeze before she allowed him to put her down her feet. "What are you doing out here in the rain?"

"I could ask you that." Arya argued matter-of-factly, placing the cloak back over her head. "I was looking for Amara, she was supposed to teach me how to make a v-arrow."

Jon eyes slowly glanced back at Amara, who smiled innocently and shrugged her shoulders as if there was nothing wrong. "What? She's good with a whistling arrow. You should've heard it. It was almost like I was back in Yi Ti again." His eyes caught the sudden sullen look that took over her face before she brushed it away, "Besides, there are a lot of birch trees around here to make good arrows. It'll be useful. She isn't going to sit down and do nothing whether you tell or ask her to."

He had always been for Arya learning weaponry. He gave her needle, which he saw resting at her hip. It would've been wrong of him to not allow her this if he had given her that. It was Robb and Lady Stark that wouldn't like it at all. And Jon did not want to explain anything to Lady Stark, especially when it came to her own children. He would've rather avoid it entirely.

"Go back to your tent," Amara scolded him, making him look at her questioningly. "It isn't going to help the healing process to have you stay out in the rain. You'll catch a cold."

Now she was nagging at him like a mother, which he suspected would happen. She wasn't his friend right now or the girl he was in love with. She was Amara the healer right now, "I need to find out what's been going on while I've been asleep."

Nodding her head understandingly, she turned her attention back to Arya. "We'll have to work on it later. I'm going to catch your brother up with everything."

Arya was obviously annoyed, the look on her face said it but she didn't put up a fight. With a defeated sigh, she nodded. "Alright, but just don't take too long or else I'll just get Tormund to help me. Gods know he's going to make it all about himself with some stupid story to go along with it." Even though her face read that she wasn't all too happy, Jon knew when his sister only halfheartedly meant what she said. It still came as a surprise that a group of Wildlings had helped save her and she seemed very attached to a few of them in kind.

He would have to do something about that, especially since the Night's Watch were held prisoner by them and now free on the terms of the Starks. It left them at a rock in a hard place because the Wildlings had helped saved his sister, but the Stark family and most of the North were loyal to the Watch. How does one choose? Though he already heard there wasn't much of a Night's Watch left and there had been nothing on his Uncle Benjen, who supposedly went missing one day while over the Wall.

His little sister left, cloak back over her head, as Amara and himself went back inside his tent. She immediately made her way towards the fire that was still burning, rubbing her hands and hovering them over the gamboling flames to bring herself some warmth. He made his way over and done the same.

"Robb has agreed for an alliance with Asha." Amara explained firstly to him, "Asha allowed Robb to kill some of the Greyjoy prisoners, seeing as they chose to die with Euron or oppose her and fight with her uncle. A few of our own died back at the camp and Robb was more than angry about what happened to you." He kept himself quiet, knowing that Robb was probably furious with him. He told him he wouldn't go and he did anyway. "Theon is going to be her Hand."

Now that left him surprised. He honestly couldn't see being Theon being the hand, especially for a woman. He'd allow his sister been Queen then? He hardly could listen to a woman with simple speech, how could he follow the orders from one? Was the difference because that was his sister or because he had no claim to the throne for the Iron Islands? "I never thought she would consider that."

"That's her brother." Amara explained while staring into the bright and hot flames, "She loves him and she says she'll make him heir once he becomes a true Ironborn again."

"Where is Victarion anyway?" The last he heard, the man had taken Moat Cailin but then sailed for Pyke. Amara shrugged her shoulders at that, not knowing the answer to that either.

"Lord Blacktyde told me that Euron supposedly struck a deal with the Lannisters. I'm sure Victarion was also apart of it, and possibly is going to prepare to take Pyke away from Asha and claim the seastone chair for himself. He has supporters, so I don't see why he wouldn't."

"The last thing I want to deal with is another Greyjoy, especially sided with a Lannister." It felt like this war was never going to end. How long was it going to be? It was would a whole year soon and then Winter will come. They needed the war to end before Winter so that they could last through it. If they weren't careful, there would be a shortage of supplies and then they would all die from starvation. "Has anything else happened?"

A long and tired sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed up and down her sleeved arms. The look on her face was troubled and she almost seemed as if she didn't want to tell him. Her eyes stayed glued to the fire before slowly looking over at him, "Lady Catelyn is waiting for Robb to come to Riverrun to wed Lady Margaery Tyrell."

His eyes widened in surprise, "She managed to ally us with the Tyrells… Wait, why do you look so upset about it?" She should've been happy. That made their numbers bigger and their ties stronger and they were bound to have food too; the Reach was filled with boundless of farms and weren't inflicted badly by the changing of seasons. Most importantly, they were more likely to win the war, but Amara hadn't looked happy about it at all.

"I think…" Tilting her head, her brows furrowed in confusion, "I think Robb," hardly did she ever not associate a title to Robb's name, which meant that were something more to it. It was a little more serious than he imagined, "I think Robb is in love with the Lady Talisa, the healer from Volantis."

Jon had tried to ignore the obvious, but he had seen it. He tried to think Robb would know better and not get himself getting attached to the woman. There had been a time where Robb only spoke of her, not breathing a word of nothing else that had nothing to do with the war before them. Jon tried to think he just liked the woman, he didn't think Robb's feelings would go any deeper than that. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure, and I think she feels the same for him." Rubbing his hand against his face from his forehead and down, Jon found himself stuck on what to do. The last thing they needed was making the Tyrells their enemies, especially after abruptly cutting the betrothals between with Robb as well as Arya with the Freys. They had Dorne and the North and the Riverlands, but sending the Tyrells to the Lannister's gates would be an idiot's mistake. "I haven't told him about Lady Catelyn's letter, but he needs to know. I figure you might be better suited to talk to him about it. I will handle Lady Talisa."

"What do you mean by handle Lady Talisa?" There had been something similar to protectiveness in Amara's voice, making him question where her feelings lied in all this. It was almost as if she was declaring that this was her family too and she'd do anything to protect them. Although when it came to Amara and Robb, they never saw eye to eye when she done her best to do things in his best interest. He was sure this wasn't going to be any different either. "Have you met everyone from Dorne? Prince Oberyn has been curious about you for a while now. Lord Umber spoke about you… a lot."

She smiled then, piping up and taking on a much more cheerful look. All the graveness of what was to come regarding Robb and this marriage contract with the Tyrells had been brushed aside. "I did." Placing her hands over her face, she reminded Jon of a forlorn, besotted girl; the way the girls would look at Robb when they were younger. "He's quite handsome. He has bronze skin, dark eyes, and black hair. I think I have a liking to a man that is tall, dark, and handsome."

He immediately frowned at that, his eyes staring at her rather dully as she caught the look on his face and laughed. She was teasing him. He truly felt a slight streak of jealousy as she spoke of Prince Oberyn that way. Averting his eyes due to him feeling silly for actually think she really felt that way, she nudged his side. "I was only teasing."

"Really? I couldn't tell." He fought not to smile as she seemed genuinely surprised, "If you're so interested in the Prince of Dorne, I won't stop you."

"Jon!"

It was hard not to hold in his laugh, it came slipping through and he was met with a glare. Her arms folded across her chest, the look on her face sour. Now she had known how it felt to always be on the receiving end of teasing, but he found her childish tantrum endearing. He brought a kiss down at the top of her head and he heard her sigh contentedly.

When he pulled away, she was looking up at him with all traces of her aggravation gone and a smile on her face. "I didn't get the chance to tell you happy name day." It dawned on him how she spent it too; kidnapped and having to save him, watching him nearly died at the hands of her captor and then having to kill him herself.

"It was some kind of name day, wasn't it?" Shrugging her shoulders, she shook her head and managed to let out a slight titter. "It is one I won't forget... That's for damn sure."

It wasn't often that he heard her swear and it sounded so strange, considering how soft her voice was. It was like a child learning a curse for the first time. "I think you need to stop being around Greatjon for a while." She snorted while looking embarrassed all the same as she tried to hide her face in her hands. "I got you a present," That made her head immediately lift, looking curious and excited. "But I guess it is still at Riverrun. I won't tell you what it is, you'll just have to see when we get there." Amara sucked her teeth, rolling her eyes afterwards. He smiled and laid his hand against her face, cupping it. "For you to be eight and ten, you sure act as if you're Arya's age."

"You've been cutting it really close, Jon. I'm halfway tempted to pinch you again." She raised her hand, making a pinching motion with her fingers that was too much like a crab. He took a step back, pretending to fear the "torture".

"There's one way I could stop you from doing that." Confused, she awaited an explanation, "I could do this." He fused their lips together in a kiss, which wasn't meant to be so demanding, thorough, and as heated as it turned out to be. She hadn't mind since she had leaned into him as he encircled his arms around her waist, crushing her against him. He couldn't even feel the pain of the wound anymore. It was as if he was entirely numb to it now, like her kiss had been a taste of dreamwine.

It was her that broke their kiss, leaving her lips dangerously close for him capture them again. "Jon…" She breathed out, his eyes staring at her parted lips before raising to look up at her eyes.

"What? Is something wrong?" It was hard to keep himself from pulling her into another bruising kiss, especially when she was looking at him with her eyes so dark and disclosing her desire for him. How could he possibly stay still or even want to converse? He kept thinking about the day that he finally had her to himself without any barriers between them whether it be: people, clothes, and anything else that could separate them.

She shook her head with her lips in a lovely crescent, "I was wondering if you even knew where to put it."

Confused, he glared at her with a frown on his lips and his brows knitted together. Now wasn't the time for teasing, especially when it had came to that. "I know where to put it, Amara."

"Are you sure? You couldn't even explain it to Austin for me when I asked you."

She thought she was so clever; Jon inched forward, his look of reverence turned into a roguish grin quickly. "I won't argue with you, I'll just have to show you." His hands went to unloosen her plain, grey dress until it became so loose that it slid from her shoulders and slithered down her body until it pooled around her feet. He didn't get the chance to see the sight of her because she impatiently pulled the tunic from over his head.

Now he had the chance to devour the sight of her bare body before him. She was perfect. He loved every single part of her—her legs, her hips, her fingers, her neck, her eyes, her hair. For a moment, it was hard for him to believe that she was even real, standing before him and wanting to become his. _His_. Jon had never had anything that he could say was his before or be someone that a person would want to claim.

As if he didn't have any time to waste, he picked her up and carried her towards the bed, laying her back against it. His lips peppered her neck with chaste kisses, leaving a trail of heat in the wake after each one. Basking in the sound of her sweet whimpers, he pushed her gently back on the cushion and straddled her. He could tell that her hands cautiously didn't linger anywhere close to his chest during their exploration. Her hands therapeutically slid up his back, her fingernails lightly grazing his skin in efforts to not pierce him. That had send wave after wave of pleasure as she touched certain spots, spots he didn't know could affect him like this.

His hand slid up from the base of her stomach and under her breast, cupping the plush mound in his hand. Jon's hold was firm, his eyes catching sight of how her lips parted and eyes fluttered in anticipation. Just a soft squeeze made her moan with wanton delight almost instantly. Smirking, he bent down and fastened his mouth over the pink and taut tip of her breast, letting his tongue ravish her. Amara was writhing beneath him, hardly able to keep herself still under his touch. With just a nip, she gasping and trying to stifle her moans by bringing her bottom lip between her teeth.

Unlatching his mouth from her breast, he kissed down the smooth plane that was her stomach and down towards legs to what was in-between them. It made himself proud that she was already this aroused for him as his eyes gazed at her most intimate area. He smiled at her sudden shyness, wanting to deny him sight and access by rubbing her thighs together. When he tried to meet her eyes, she was looking away with a furious blush on her face. "Are you scared?"

"I'm not scared!" She said rather brusquely. He couldn't help but snort at her sudden stubbornness as he eased her thighs apart and tried to calm her with ghost-like kisses trailing up her inner thighs. The muscles in her legs quickly relaxed before he buried his face into her womanhood. It surprised him once she drew his face in closer with her hands pressing the back of his head, combing through his hair. Each moan of hers increased in volume with every flicker of his tongue. However, Amara didn't let him linger too much longer, nearing her peak with him between her legs. She didn't allow herself for an apogee, she instead tightly gripped as his hair to pull at him, forcing him to be face-to-face with her.

Her lips eagerly met his, not minding his wet lips as she forced his lips apart to insert her tongue. Her sudden aggressiveness had his stomach tightening in a knot, especially with the contrast of the way her hands gently cradled face. Their tongues swirled in a playful dance, exploring each others mouth for the first and he hoped not the last time. He wasn't sure how it was impossible, for his lust to take on a new high that was higher than the one before. He wasn't sure what the limit was of desiring someone. Was it normally to have his mind completely blank of everything except for her? That the sky could come falling down and he wouldn't notice or even care?

Prying their lips apart, his eyes took in sight of her; skin shining from the thin sheet of sweat, her hair, in disarray. The ribbon that once tied her hair together had loosened, allowing her hair to be fanned out around her like halo. "Amara," His breath was caught in his throat and he was fighting to regain control again. "do you trust me?"

Her eyes softened at the question and she gave him a slow nod, "As long as you know—"

"I know what I'm doing." To hush her, he leaned forward and kissed her, slowly this time. She arched her neck and angled her head to deepen the kiss, threading her fingers through his curly hair. Jon's hand slid up her thighs, lifting her towards him, and she relaxed in preparation to what was to come. It hadn't meant that she would be fully able to handle the invasion but he hoped that she did trust him to guide her through it. Amara's hands gripped him tightly as she took in a sharp inhale as he slowly inserted himself inside her. She pulled away from the kiss to bury her head in his shoulder as their bodies had finally joined completely. In efforts to give her time to adjust, he remained still since her muscles were still tense and her legs were trembling.

His hand combed through her hair, his lips kissing the shell of her ear in order to get her into a state of calm. Everything that he could do to ease her and let her to settle into it. It was difficult, to be patient, since his own self-control was waning; having her clenched tight around him had increased his arousal to the absolute limit.

When her trembling had ceased, he lifted himself up on his hands to look down at her beneath her. Her eyes were staring back at him, almost rather defiantly. "It wasn't that bad…" He wasn't sure if she meant that or she was trying to be brave. Her hands brushed their their ways up his arms by the fingertips, so she could encircle her arms around his neck and pull him down, whispering against his lips. "I suppose you knew where to put it after all."

He didn't want to laugh, but he did and rested his forehead against her own. This was all new for him too, seeing as he was a virgin himself. He moved experimentally against her, surprised by her sudden response. Feeling triumphant, he moved again; leisurely, methodically, as she had begun to follow his lead. Jon didn't want to rush it, even though he knew something that usually happened to men during their first time from the stories he heard. He didn't want to leave her unsatisfied, but if he kept the pace he was on, he was sure he wasn't bound to last.

Each thrust had her coiling around him. The way her hips moved in a undulated tempo was making it hard for him to keep it steadily paced. He wasn't sure if this was her way of telling him that she could handle a faster pace or if it was own mind deceiving him because that's what he wanted. Jon answered her demands as she, instinctively, wrapped her legs tightly around him. With each thrust, her back arched further, as her moans of pleasure were loud and breathy as he continuously buried himself to the hilt inside of her.

Their breaths were mingling now; a heavy haze began to cloud his mind, ridding the thought of how he couldn't believed how her body connected so amazingly against his. To him, it felt perfect; like she had been the perfect fit. Amara called out his name in a sort, mangled cry as she was nearing her climax, he could especially tell with how tightly she coiled around him more than before. His pace quickened, becoming more feral and unending as he could feel his own end trying to come.

Her body had frozen abruptly, becoming rigid as her lips halted open in a silent shout. Her body trembled and shook with aftershocks. A white hot blinding coursed from his cock and throughout his body with gritted teeth. His breathing increased until with a raspy shout, he as he finally reached over the edge. It almost felt as if he couldn't get enough air as her legs untangled themselves from around his waist, limply.

His body fell tiredly next to her, giving them both time to catch their breath and come down from the high of their what he assumed would be lovemaking. He looked over towards her, chest still rising and falling rapidly. He gathered her in his arms and she rested her head against his shoulder, too scared to touch his wounded chest.

"So that's what it's like." He smiled as she said that with wonder, like her curiosity had been satiated. "I think I'd like to do that again."

"Right now?!" He asked incredulously as she sat up, looking for the ribbon that she had. "Wait, where are you going?"

"No, not right now. I think that was more than enough for me right now. My legs feel sore." To indicate they were, she had rubbed her thighs and winced a little. He wondered if that was his fault or it was natural for a woman to feel that way after sex. Everything seemed so foreign to him. "I'm going back to the healers tent."

"Why?" He grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her back onto the bed as he sat up. "Stay here with me and sleep." Jon suggested, not really wanting to part with her any time soon. She didn't have her own tent anymore and he didn't feel like walking all the way to the healers tent just to see her. Jon would much rather wake to see her face, to feel her laying into him, and if they felt going for another round then they could whenever they had wanted.

She didn't look really convinced, her brow raising with question. "Are you sure? Wouldn't you want to sleep by yourself?"

"I would much rather sleep with you." He wasn't sure why she was in the mood to be stubborn, but he wasn't having any of it.

"I'll stay." Her voice sounded like a whisper, a sweet and shy one. She had laid back down and he after her, pulling the covers and furs as she held interlocked their fingers.

The quiet was comforting, good enough to fall asleep to, but Jon found her more amused than sleepy. She was staring back at him with the smile he adored, where her eyes smiled too. "Before," His eyes continued to stare into her own, "when I was Jon Snow, I wanted to be with you. I couldn't kiss you as Jon Snow because I knew I would've been unable to stop myself. Back then, it wouldn't have been easy." His hold on her hand began to tighten suddenly, becoming lost into what he had been thinking for months and months. "Even now as Jon Stark, things still won't be easy. But you will still have me, won't you? Because I want you with me."

It was the proper confession, the one she deserved months ago. The one that she wanted to hear from him back in Riverrun. Even though her smile still remained, her eyes appeared to be moistening. He reached a hand to her face to wipe away that tear he could see coming. She grabbed that hand with the one that wasn't gripped by his other and pressed her lips to his palm to give it a kiss before holding it against her face.

"You have me. Until the sun rises and sets for the last time. Until the moon no longer shows and stars are gone. Even when your eyes are too heavy to open and only close. Even when you walk hand-in-hand into the abyss only the Stranger knows. You have me. You have all of me; Stark or Snow."

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 **A/N:** There was so many ways I came up with killing Euron. It was kind of scary, all the scenarios I had, but I liked this one better. I'm not trying to brag, but I'm gonna kill you all with the Tywin fight. Just to keep you guys hyped about that. To important matters, they finally kissed. FINALLY. There were several different ways I wrote it and I regret not writing the other one but it would've been in a different circumstance. Above all, they finally kiss, all the lemons, and sooooo much fluff. Isn't that nice? I'm nice, aren't I? _Right?_ Okay, I did beat up Jon.. again, but I'm still nice. He had to lose a little, he's gonna lose some more. It gotta be done.

Twenty-five chapters and now there's finally a sex-scene? Is this even a GoT story? Lol. I was scared to write it seeing as there is a certain standard of writing smut on FF. I hope I didn't break any rules and that it was good. I tried my best without being tooooo descriptive.


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note:** 200 followers?! Whoa! I'm so happy guys. Thank you all for staying with me this long. I'm grateful to everyone who reviews, faves, and follows.

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The adjustment to bed from the forest floor wasn't a speedy process. Sometimes she would roll slovenly because her side would ache since it was un-familiarizing what used to be the hard ground. It had been pure accident when she rolled into him, curling up against him from the inviting warmth that she wanted to keep absorbing from him. Her mind slowly began to rewind all that led up to where she was now. Her eyes, although heavy, blinked away their sleepy blear to watch how his chest rose and fell in steady breaths. She could even see muscles quiver and stretched under his pale skin as he shifted in the mattress, moving to lie on his side instead of his back.

Her eyes roamed to look up at his face, observing the complete look of calm. He was having a good sleep, she thought. Even before she parted with him from Riverrun, he looked as if he had been completely forsaken from a good rest for such a long time. As much as he would nag at her, he didn't take care of himself all that well either. How was it fair that he wanted her at her best but could not provide himself the same treatment? Pushing aside the hypocrisy of his nagging, she decided not to ruin the sight of him or her content with paltry things.

It was hard to keep herself still, to just allow him to sleep and not touch him. Perhaps it was the crippling fear that this was all too good to be true that made her unable to keep herself from wanting to feel him. Because it was the closest part of him she could reach from their position, she craned her neck so that her lips pressed against his throat, directly inches above his Adam's apple. Amara would've given him another kiss; one on his shoulder, the other against his forehead, and one at the center of his chest, but she didn't want to move too much since she wanted him unaware of them. These were moments she wanted to steal without his prying eyes. If he were awake, she'd be too distracted and wouldn't soak up these quiet moments so that she could think fondly of them over time.

"Do you always wake this early?"

Although it was a murmur, it scared her still. It could've been the fact that because she was lying in bed with her body too comfortably sunk into the mattress, she didn't have the instant impulse to jump away. Her eyes flickered upward to gaze at his own that were peering down at her. "Sometimes." She watched as his eyes observed every bit of her actions, watching as she propped herself up on her elbow. "They say the sun rises first in Yi Ti before it does anywhere else. It is a custom that the people must rise with it."

"That sounds awful." Amara couldn't help but laugh at his bluntness, "Why would anyone want to be awake that early?"

Smiling, she tried to remember if she knew a more indepth reason for the custom. It was a bit disheartening that she was slowly forgetting some things about her home. It was hard to remember after being so far and not having to follow the way of life she only knew before. All she could do was shrug her shoulders, "I don't know." Amara felt his hand slowly brush the hair hanging in front of her forehead to the side, her eyes shyly averted him, unsure why such a simple gesture made her feel flustered suddenly. "Why are you awake?" She asked.

"I was making sure that you didn't run off."

Hitching a brow, she tried to muster a very stern expression. "I have things to do." Things that she didn't want to do. Things she knew she had to do. "And so do you."

The look he gave her was an honest 'why are you reminding me that?' as she intertwined their hands that kept lingering near her hair. She realized that she had liked holding his hands. There was something comforting about it. It was a simple gesture and not as sweet as kiss, but it had a romance all on its own.

"I also have to leave because no one should know that I'm here." The words seem to blurt out her mouth without thought. It was her honest opinion, seeing as though things were different. He was a bastard no more, but a prince. She hadn't reverted back to her royal status, she was still a healer and knew very well that she would always be one.

"Are you ashamed?" His grip tightened, almost making her unsure if it was because he felt hurt by her words or he was attempting to comfort her. "I don't really care what anyone else says about it."

"I'm not." Amara knew very well what she was doing. There were plenty of times she could have stopped it all and left, but she didn't want to. She had didn't regret it, not any of it. The loss of her maidenhead had meant absolutely nothing to her. It held no significance and she wished her honor never hinge on whether she had it or not.

It all boiled down to the fact it was better for him if it was kept a secret. Amara found herself afraid of how people would look at him. Nevermind they would claim her ruined, probably throw her name in the mud, but they would say he tainted her. That he used her like many men used women for wars and that he would one day toss her away for a noble wife. She knew better than to think he would do that, especially willingly. If Jon had to leave her it would be because he had no other choice or because she had willingly gave him up. The reality was, was that he was a prince and she was a healer. They would be lovers, not man and wife. He would have to marry a proper noblewoman one day and she would continue her life without him. This romance was all so temporary; rushed, stupid, and something she was willing to see to its bitter end.

If Jon had known she accepted the way of things, he would fight it. She couldn't let him do that. No matter how much she loved him, no matter how much it would hurt in the end, she couldn't tell him that. It was because of how much she loved him that she had to accept that one day she would have to rightfully let him go. Until then, she would accept her actions and the future consequences. _'Time will separate us one day. But for now, let's enjoy being together.'_ That was her promise she made to him and she would keep it to herself.

"But first and foremost, I have injured to tend to and you, my prince, do not need tending." The dull ache between her legs was still present, it was a numbing sort of pain that seem to heighten every time she moved. The healer ignored it though, knowing that it was normal and shouldn't rouse any worry. "You also need to speak to Robb about Lady Talisa." And she needed to speak to Lady Talisa herself. Amara knew that interfering was probably the worst thing to do and yet she felt she had to. She couldn't let Robb ruin his hand with the Tyrells, especially after learning that he lost the Freys.

As she slipped into the healer dress, she heard Jon shuffling about. It felt perverse, to be curious, to want to turn and see him bare, but he was hers if not for a short time. Her head slowly turned to look over her shoulder, but his breeches were already on. All she could see was his back and broad shoulders, and just how a line of sunlight that stretched all the way from the slit of the tent's flaps gave a golden color to him. Her bottom lip was between her teeth, eyes widening as he slightly turned so that she could gaze at the muscle planes of his flesh and the delicate ridges of his abs. The excitement of how she felt just last night began to return in short bursts of heat and traveling downwards.

"Amara," Her eyes widened and immediately flicked up to look at his face, "are you alright? Can you tie the laces?"

"Oh," Her thoughts just couldn't come together, and she hardly knew what he was talking about. "I-I was just thinking, I'm fine."

He looked extremely puzzled, brows furrowing in what she knew to be doubt. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She forced herself to smile, despite the nervous twitch at the corners that were trying to make themselves known. She quickly tore her eyes away from him and tried to hold in her sigh.

Is this what it felt to be like a normal young girl for once? To desire someone and yet… be so awkward with it? No, Ros would've never been awkward, she couldn't help but to think. Ros would've owned it and probably be unafraid to speak of her impure feelings. She would do as she wanted without care. Of course, she'd be seeking payment at the end and that's where all the comparisons really stopped at. Just thinking of Ros had made her mood completely dampen as she was now too busy yearning to see or at least hear from her best friend again.

Her body jolted, just slightly, as she felt the laces of her uniform being pulled. Her eyes peered over their corners to see that he was tightening and tying the laces for her. Every minute or so, his cold fingers would ghost along the skin of her back, making her nearly want to shiver as goose-pimples began rising on her arms. Amara doubted that she would ever be able to get use to the intimacy, having growing used to holding back and performing all the puerile forms of affection. This type of intimacy was foreign, addicting and mature but… foreign.

"There's something I need to tell you." His hands slowly fell down to his sides, meaning he completely tied them. "Euron Greyjoy told me something that I think you need to know."

Usually when someone said that, it was accompanied by bad news. And to hear Euron's name mention had made her bones become stiff with fear. Even though the man was dead, his name still brought her dread. She exacted her vengeance, killed him like she said she would, but she had not felt any satisfaction. Killing him did not take away the anger or the pain she went through and nor would it rectify what he had done to Zola. Zola… She tried to think that maybe she was still alive. Perhaps she was at Pyke and that when Asha returned, she could finally be freed.

"What is it?" The healer kept her voice leveled, not wanting to worry Jon. She wanted to act as if she was unaffected by even the mere mention of him.

"He said your brother has been looking for you." Her eyes widened at the fact that there was even crossing between Euron and her brother. Nevermind he was searching for her, she wondered just how Euron knew anything about him. Her stomach was tying in a knot and it took everything in her to not panic. Outside, she might've seemed to be in her normal disposition but on the inside? Her mind was starting to ache with a thousand question. "He has a large sum for whoever finds you. Euron was going to claim your fortune, thinking you'd be made a princess again."

Her eyes narrowed at that and she sneered at the thought. "He would've never gotten his filthy hands on my family's gold. Still, I wonder why Naran looks for me." The idea that Naran wanted to see her, that he still cared about where she was, had made her extremely happy. After all this years of assuming that he hated her, forgot her, or completely moved on and to know he still cared was overwhelming in such a positive way.

"You're his sister." Jon put it simply, resting his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes met with his, seeing the kindness in them that she loved. "He doesn't need any more reason than that to see you again."

"I suppose…" Her nod was feeble at first, almost like she couldn't really believe it all. "If he is looking for me then I suppose he isn't in Yi Ti as of late. I wonder where he is and what he is doing… I have no way in searching for him and it probably died with Euron."

There was a look of disappointment crossing his face, "I hadn't thought of that."

"It's alright." Walking towards the bed, she began to pull at the sheets to remove it from the bed. "If it is meant to be then it'll be. I told myself I would try to forgive myself and try to look forward to the future. The past always has a way of catching up with me anyway." Folding the sheets, she made sure that the stain of blood from their coupling wasn't in plain view. It was embarrassing to even see it and she tried to not wear the embarrassment on her face.

"You'll come back tonight, won't you?"

Fully turning to face him, her lips tried to suppress a smile. "I don't know." Her eyes chose to look down at the floor, "I want to, but I already don't have an explanation of where I was last night. How can I explain another?"

"You shouldn't have to explain anything." He was persistent on the matter, which made her happy and sad all the same. It pained her to deny him, especially with how crestfallen he looked. Now all she wanted to say was that she didn't care and that she would come back, but she told herself she wanted to protect him. She wanted to protect his reputation even at the cost of her own. He was a prince now. He was the Stark he always wanted to be. He deserved this and a clean slate. He was already deemed a hero for all the things he had done in this war, especially concerning the battles he won. How could all that be spoken about with scandals about his tryst with a healer? Robb was bound to make the same mistake himself, and she had to protect them both.

"If only it were that simple, Jon." In act of cowardice, she refused to meet his eyes. She knew she would be swayed if she did. Amara felt all her grips on self control becoming almost nonexistent after all the years she had molded it. What happened? Amara couldn't help but wonder. What happened to her strong self that control her emotions and wouldn't allow herself to falter even over the slightest of things? To the girl who was so sure of herself and all her decisions? As you age, you become wiser, but she felt more foolish than she ever did before.

"And why isn't it simple?" He took several steps towards her, blocking her path so that he could get a proper explanation. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that Jon wasn't going to let this go, even though she wished he would. "Amara, this wasn't just some accident. I would never treat you like some common sally, you mean much more than that to me."

Amara watched breathlessly as his hands cupped her face so, so gently. Was it silly to say that it made her feel like he was holding her as if she was something so immeasurably precious? That if he had let her go, she might turn as fragile as she felt?

"I know." Her voice came out a little quieter than she intended. If she stayed and listened then her entire resolve would diminish into nothing. Love wasn't going to make her foolish, at least not any more than it already had. The damage it had done wasn't severe, but soon it would be. She wouldn't allow it to ruin anything else, no matter how good it felt. "Let's save this talk for another time."

"I'm not going to forget about it." Setting her jaw, the healer lowered her head she clutched the bedsheet tightly in her grasp. "But I'll wait until you're ready." Even now he was being patient while persistent at the same time. He wanted to coax her to talk, not forcefully, but make it out of her volition. She didn't want to hear him say that, saying that so kindly and lovingly. Having him be so willing to be patient for something she wanted to ignore because she was afraid he would fight what seemed to be fate.

"Thank you." Her shoulders fell in relief after feeling so tense, he raised her head and showed her that kind smile of his. The one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle; a smile that really took over and lit up his whole face. It was hard to even breathe, seeing as she nearly thought that she might not ever get to see that smile again just weeks ago.

He guided their mouths together, something about this more tender than the first or second time. Amara doubted she would not get addicted to them because within them, they made her feel what coming home was like. Stepping inside a familiar place, a safe place. Her chest felt warm in spite of the fact that Jon's kiss and touch evoke a sense of Winter; something that was indefinitely and inherently him.

Once he pried their lips apart, a gentle smile spilled forth. "I know that there will be times where the things I do might seem questionable or strange to you, but that is just me proving just how much I love you." His eyes met hers, searching for the hidden meaning, she knew. Jon was smart, he was able to read her much more than she would've liked at times. Even now, he could tell there was some sort of barrier she was building, and he wanted to know the reason. "Don't ever think that I don't love you. I meant what I said last night."

"I know." There was some resignation in how he spoke yet she didn't feel hurt or troubled by that. It was his way of saying that he trusted her, even if he didn't know what he was trusting her about.

"You won't stop me from leaving now, will you?" Trying to lighten the mood, she nudged his side as she kept a smile still present her face. He took a step away, allowing her to leave without any barriers. Her steps were slow, almost like she wouldn't mind if he had stopped her from leaving despite knowing she had to. Before she raised the flap to leave, she turned to steal a glance at him, just to see that he was still watching her. "I also meant what I said that I'd like to do that again."

It had been such a long time since she saw him flustered, the ever stoic Jon Snow—Stark now. If she had been any crueler, she would point out how roseate his face was getting as the minutes flew by. With a laugh that was bordering on a giggle, she had completely left the tent and inhaled the cool air of the early morning.

Not wanting to linger too long in front of his tent to draw attention, Amara quickened her pace until it was safe for her to maunder her way through the camp. There were few people awake, which worked in her favor. The medic tent didn't seem too busy, but she was sure within another hour or so all of them would be awake and tending to the injured. Her eyes gaze down to the bed sheet in her hand absently, needlessly reminding herself that she would have to make Moon tea. The last thing she needed was to be was with child.

It had been so long since she thought about having a child of own. She had one now, Austin, but a child she birthed? That she carried and patiently waited for nearly nine moons? Just the simple thought of having a child now made her chest feel heavy with anxiety. Before, she might've played with the thought. Now it didn't bring her a sense of wonder or joy. It gave her sadness instead.

"Amara."

The voice startled her, making her jump, and then groan as she heard the laugh. "Lady Dacey," she pressed her hand over her heart, trying to calm its rapid beating and eased her breathing back to the norm. "Why do you Northerners like to scare me?"

"Because it's quite easy to." Was the answer she was given and she shot a heated look at the Mormont, just to be given a smile. "My apologies though. It really wasn't my intention." Her apology sounded genuine and even if it didn't, Amara would've forgave her anyway. "I was wondering where you were going is all. You look a bit… troubled."

Her eyes immediately shot up to look at Dacey, her head shaking fervently. "Troubled? No, I'm quite alright. I was just thinking about a few things." Erasing the slouch from her shoulders, she stood more upright to look well-adjusted. She couldn't have Dacey worrying about her. There was much more Dacey needed to be focused on. "I'm going to check on the wounded."

"Oh!" Dacey then gave a nod, letting Amara feel just the slightest bit of relieved. "But what's that in your hands?"

"A sheet. There was some blood on it from Jon's wound and I decided to wash it for him." Hopefully that lie was adequate enough, and it seemed to since Dacey had believed her. Of course, this could've been her mind manipulating that such a strange lie could be taken as truth. "What is that you are up to? Normally, I don't see you awake this early."

"Well, I was going to meet with a few others. Most of us are being assigned to separate groups; my mother is going to capture some livestock out here and Lord Umber is capturing the gold mines of Castamere, Nunn's Deep, and the Pendric Hills. We want to be fully prepared before we head to Casterly Rock; no food shortages, gold to buy all the rest that we need"

The healer nodded understandingly, almost wondering if this war would actually becoming to an end soon. It was a nice thought, a thought that was probably just a silly wish. No war like this would be over so soon, not when they were up against such a formidable strategist that Robb and Jon as well as the others claimed Tywin Lannister to be. "Which will you join? I suppose you would like to be alongside your mother, yes?"

"No, no." The girl smile impishly, "I've never been girlish, but I do love me some gold accessories."

A chuckle escaped her, wondering how Dacey would look decked out in gold. In fact, Dacey would look beautiful in shades of green and gold since green was her House color. "I'm sure everyone likes gold, Lady Dacey. I don't blame you though, I'd rather the gold than the temperament of animals."

"You know they're going to be shtiting all over the place when they round them up." Dacey whispered into her ear, making her burst into another laugh. The both of them kept walking, still laughing, and wondering how Lady Mormont would handle such animals with her kind of temper. "I have to ask you something though."

"What is it?" Her eyes looked ahead of the camp as they walked, sometimes their shoulders lightly bumping due to unleveled ground. "You've never came to me for advice before."

"Well," Dacey began rather timidly, "I think you're better suited when it comes to things like this."

"Like what?" Blinking several times in her confusion, she watched as Dacey completely stopped walking and looked around to see who was nearby. What could possibly make her so nervous? Surely, Dacey never felt fear about anything, right? "

"Miss Amara!" The both of them quickly looked towards the Dayne girl, who slowed down her running. They met days ago with the girl wildly shaking her hand and exclaiming eagerly how she heard so much about her from the Karstarks and Umbers. She even interrogated her about her relationship with Jon. "Asha—Queen Asha I should say—wants to see you."

It did sound strange… but it was true. If Asha succeeded on the seastone chair, she would be Queen of the Iron Isles. "We can continue this conversation later?" She looked to Dacey, who nodded her head rather quickly before flicking her gaze towards Dara.

Amara glanced back and forth between the both of them, noticing something amiss but didn't put too much thought into it. She was suppose to be going to the healer's tent and preparing moon tea and tending to the men and yet she was suddenly popular this morning.

Asha's tent was at the far end of the camp and so the walk was quite long. Eventually, she hurried her steps just to see Theon leaving his sister's tent with a look of thought sprawled across his face. "Theon." She called out to him, capturing his attention right away. "Prince Theon would be more appropriate, wouldn't it?"

That infamous grin of his suddenly made its appearance. She could say that she somewhat missed it over the span of time she hadn't seen him, "That would be more appropriate!" Smug as ever, but she couldn't see Theon any other way. "But I suppose I can let you have have some merit in just calling me Theon for a time. I do owe you for reuniting me with my sister and what not."

"You don't owe me anything." Amara crinkled her eyes some, happy to see two siblings together again, even though she wished it could be her and her own. "Just knowing that you didn't have to choose between King Robb and your family is enough for me."

"He told me you were the reason he didn't send me to Pyke back then." Her head lowered some, remembering that she did take the one chance that Theon had to reunite with his father. "I was pissed, but I realized now that it was probably the best thing. Asha told me how our father was and that I would've never been accepted because I've been gone for so long. He considered me a Stark since they paid the iron price for me. Lord Blacktyde promises to teach me how the Iron Isles has been since I've been gone, so I guess your meddling did something good in the end."

Unsure of whether he was lecturing or thanking her, she furrowed her brows. "Your welcome, I guess?" For the first time, there wasn't a smirk playing about his features. There was a softness, a kind look in his eyes, and she found herself stunned. Possibly for the first time since she met him, she was now seeing Theon's real smile.

"Go on, Asha's waiting." Stepping aside, he sauntered down the camp without once looking back. Amara had turned to look at him, seeing him running up to Torrhen Karstark and a few others. It hadn't crossed her mind how the Greyjoy was fairing with Euron amok. It didn't matter now since Euron was dead and Theon was giving a new start when it came to his family again.

Walking in, she had saw Asha leaning against a table with a map properly splayed out. Her eyes were raking over each and everything, looking as if she shouldn't be disturbed. Unsure if she should say anything or not, Amara decided to stand awkwardly to the side until Asha paid her attention.

"Amara." The Queen-to-be had raised her head, eyes staring straight away at her as she greeted her. "It would be rude of me if I didn't ask first on how you were."

"I'm fine. You, however, look as if you haven't slept." There were bags under Asha's eyes and every few minutes, she tried to suppress the yawn that didn't want to be fought against. "You should at least take a nap. It's not healthy."

"Don't nag me now." Sighing, she stretched her arms above her head and winded his shoulders. A lot of her mannerisms were like a man's. Amara supposed that's what happens when a man sees you as no lady and grooms you as a lord and his heir. But this suited Asha, she couldn't see her a girl that wore frilly dressed and be made to stitch. Perhaps there was a side of her like that, that she hadn't seen before. "I heard your Stark prince woke up, so I'm sure your happy."

"He did." Not giving Asha the satisfaction of a smile, she tried to remain very toneless in speech. "And I am."

Asha merely snorted, shaking her head. "I suppose I am happy for you, just a little."

Smiling, she walked towards the map and looked down, her eyes finally looking at a very detailed and beautifully sketched atlas of Westeros. Everything was detailed; the rivers, the mountains, and even the minor details like the forests and small villages. Her hand wanted to touch it, to almost get a feel of the lands she hadn't all explored. She only touched the North, part of the Iron Islands, and some of the Riverlands. There was so much more of Westeros to be seen, to smell, and to feel.

"There's something I want to ask you," She said to Asha, "something that's been bothering me for days."

The Greyjoy Queen lifted her eyes away from the map and up at her, giving her all of her attention. "What's bothering you?"

Her hands were twitching, wanting to mess with something to calm her nerves, but she couldn't give Asha the same lie about the sheet. She was much too keen and well aware of her feelings, and probably wouldn't put it past her that she and Jon laid together.

"Back when I first saw the Iron Fleet when we were coming here to the camp, I had a dream about three men and a woman killing Jon." At least the nightmare didn't plague her again in her sleep, possibly because Jon was next to her. But what if came again? Would it be different since Euron was now dead or did it not matter in the end? "The woman stabbed him with a sword of fire…"

"Like Nissa Nissa?" Amara blinked twice, raising a brow. "There's a legend, some crazy one about some Azor Ahai, but it was actually the reverse in the tale. He stabbed his wife in her chest, right through the heart, with a sword to make lightbringer; a sword made of fire. Somethin' like that. It's been awhile since I last heard the story."

Not once had she heard of a legend like that and it frightened her. In order to make a sword have the flames, he had to stabbed his sword into his wife? It left her anxious and her stomach turned into a tight knot. That was a much more scarier prospect than she feared, but she had managed to stop one man that led up to it. Surely, she could stop the rest, couldn't she?

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. Dreams don't mean nothin' half the time." Of course she would say something like that, she doubted Asha believed in superstitions and hidden meanings. She relied on what was before her and logic than she did of dreams and stories. It might've been the more sound way of thinking, but Amara had a hard time ignoring it. "Are you going to tell the Stark prince about it though?"

"No." Amara quickly shook her head, "He'll tell me not to worry too much about it and that it was just a dream, but I know it'll sit on his mind. I know when he goes out into the battlefield that he'll be paranoid about all who approach him. I won't do that to him."

"Quite the selfless one, aren't you?" Crossing her arms, she sat at the end of the table. "A little too selfless if you ask me. You love this prince and you're just a measly healer. You do know how this story ends for you, don't you?"

How could she be so blunt? Amara loathed and appreciated at the same time. A harsh brew of truth was probably what she needed so that she wouldn't lose the path she chosen. She couldn't stray from it, not even once. "I'm well aware." Her eyes absently looked into space, not focusing in anything on particular. "I'm just selfish right now. I get to have what I want, so let me have it for a little while. I'll have to leave him eventually, but let me have what I have right now."

Silence was all she heard and she guessed this was Asha's way of accepting what she wanted despite not agreeing with it. Asha wouldn't coddle her and yet she also wouldn't be the one to say 'I told you so' and that was more than Amara could ever ask for.

"Theon seems happy." She commented, changing the subject entirely. She didn't want to be the focus of it anymore. "I'm happy for him, and for you… The both of you."

"I have you to thank for that." Jumping off the table, Asha meandered through the tent to distract herself as she spoke. "I'm not particularly good with thanking peopl—"

"I never asked for you to, Asha." Amara cut her off quickly, "It was never my intention to help you if want me honest. We both used one another for our own gain."

It was the truth. Amara used Asha to escape and it was only after Asha succeeded in doing that did she felt the need to repay her. She didn't have to seeing as Robb was willing to help because it would benefit him mostly. He wanted the Iron Islands to side with him and now he could fully have them with Asha. Even now, the almost queen laughed at how it all played out. "I suppose you're right about that."

"It doesn't change the fact that I am glad to have met you." She ducked her head meekly. "I hope that you and I could—"

"I don't do friends, Amara." Her reply was quick, and it stung too. "But… I suppose I can make an exception for you… Maybe."

Amara ran towards her, wrapping Asha in an embrace. The Greyjoy had stiffened, remaining awkwardly still. It hadn't bothered Amara though for she was sure that she wasn't use to this kind of affection. Eventually, she felt a hand patting her back in a means to return it. "That's enough now."

Pulling away, her cheeks felt sore from smiling so much. Asha rolled her eyes and looked away, "What I called you here for was that I wanted to ask if there was anything at Pyke that you wanted?"

A look of thought came across her face and she tried to think of anything in particularly. She shook her head, "No, there isn't anything I want but… I would like for you to free Zola. The woman that Euron enslaved…" Asha nodded, remembering who she was speaking about. "Just give her freedom, that's all I can really ask for."

"Alright then." Her head inclined towards the tent's entrance as well as only exit. "You can leave now."

She gave her a wave for goodbye and made her way to leave. It would probably be quite a little while since she saw Asha again. The next time they would meet, the seastone chair would be hers as well as the rest of the Iron Islands. She couldn't imagine how tough it would be for Asha to be queen of the Ironborn, but something told the healer that she was meant to do it.

Her feet immediately carried her to the healer tents, where she saw Talisa chopping the leaves into finely cut pieces. Before she could determine what it was, Talisa had already caught onto her presence before she could figure it out. "Oh, Miss Amara." Her eyes immediately met the brunette's. "I was cutting the leaves of the Common Mallows that you asked of Harriet. I hope you didn't mind me taking the task."

"No, it's quite alright." Amara said with a smile, unsure of how she was going to steer this conversation concerning Robb. Talisa seem like a kind person, very diligent with her work, and mindful. Still, whether if she was condoning Robb's advances were completely left in the dark for her. "There is something I wanted to speak to you about though… If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't." Wiping her hand with her skirts, she made her way over and Amara looked around to see if there were anyone else to eavesdrop into their conversation. Amara tried to keep a kind smile as she led the both of them to a more quieter and empty space.

Amara pried her lips part, suddenly unsure of how she could go about the warning. Right before she could get the words out, Talisa spoke. "Is it presumptuous of me to ask what the Common Mallows do? The healers here tell me that you know a lot about medicinal flowers. I've never really heard of those kind of flowers being used before."

Now it was going to be even more awkward, especially sensing that Talisa had her own curiosities being a healer herself. She was sure this would be the last time she would ever want to ask something from her now. "I wanted to make tea out of the leaves. I was told many of the men have been suffering from coughing fits and it should cure it."

"Only coughing? Is there anything else they can do? I would like to take this knowledge with me."

"I'll write a list of things they can do, Lady Talisa. What I really want to speak you about is the relationship between you and my liege."

The Volantis woman was stunned to silence, her eyes tried their best not to widened but they did. That could only make Amara assume that it was true that there was something between them. Amara kept her eyes straight, not daring to show any sort of weakness that she would take pity on her. "Whatever there is between the both of you, my lady, it needs to end now."

 **...**

"As you know, I've decided that Greatjon will be leading the group that heads to the mines." His eyes then glossed over the expressions of everyone within the tent, "And have Lady Mormont will be leading the other that rounds up the livestock. The reasons being for this is because this is the one step closer into taking Lannisport before we march our way to Casterly Rock."

"By taking the gold mines, we'll be cutting off his trading and from it going to Lannisport and to King's Landing. He won't be able to hire or keep the sellswords at that point and what's the Iron Throne without gold?" Many of the men had nodded, seeing how such a move could really turn the tide of the war. "Since my mother wasn't able to ally us with the Tyrells, we'll need more livestock."

"Actually..." Jon stepped forward, presenting the written letter that Lady Stark had sent. "Both she and Lady Margaery are waiting for to return to Riverrun." His eyes fixed to look at his brother's, seeing them widen in surprise as the other men seemed to sigh in relief. Even if they had rounded up livestock, that wouldn't be enough to keep feeding them forever. They needed the Tyrells and their farms at this point or else they would eventually starve and be forced to retreat.

"When did this letter arrive?" He demanded to know, and that was all it took for Jon to be concerned. Although he had every right that this news be brought to him late, what else could he possibly be angry for? Because he would have to end whatever he had with Lady Talisa, Jon could only assume.

"I believe days ago." It was a lie and he could tell by the thin-look of Robb's eyes that he knew that as well. "It was only brought to my attention yesterday, really. Many of the men were still recovering from Euron Greyjoy, it is only natural that such a letter got pushed aside."

Robb's expression hadn't softened at all. His eyes remained thinned before sharply looking away, possibly pondering and try to settle with the news. "Before we begin the raids, shouldn't we be heading to Riverrun?" Lady Mormont spoke up, "You ought to be married quickly so that the Tyrells can send us food. Rounding up livestock was really the last thing I wanted to do."

Jon couldn't help but smirk at the woman's lack of enthusiasm. She stood there with her arms crossed and her eyes looking at the King of Winter expectantly.

"I would like to see my king finally have his queen. I think we all are owed a good distraction." Lord Umber chimed in, his smile rather strained. Jon supposed that he knew how Robb felt about this wedding too.

Robb gave a solemn nod, "You all may leave. I wish to speak to my brother alone."

His grey eyes remained down, listening at the sounds of the men and ladies leaving the tent. There were even some whispers that caught his ear, wondering why Robb seemed unhappy about the news of Lady Margaery. It wasn't suppose to have been obvious, but now people would start to think that Robb didn't want to marry her. Even if it was the case, that shouldn't have been known.

Once it was clear and quiet, not a soul around, Robb turned to look at him. "You've only been awake for a day, two considering this one. Why would someone come running to you about this letter? They would've informed me immediately. Who intercepted it?"

"I don't know." It didn't feel right to lie, but he couldn't out Amara over this situation. "I told them before all of this if that we receive any raven from Riverrun to inform me about it. You were on bedrest after what happened at Crag, so I decided to take on the responsibility to receive news and report to you myself once I was sure it wouldn't stress you."

"I know you're hiding something from me, Jon." It took everything in him to not look suspicious or even sigh. He had to stick with the story, even if Robb suspected it to not be true. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I think it is you that's hiding something." Robb dodged the inquiring eyes that Jon set on him, "What is going on with you and Lady Talisa?"

"Nothing." He simply said, "She has been healing me, that's all."

"Nothing more than that?" It felt more like an interrogation than him wanting to help his brother. Jon wasn't angry, he would've helped Robb pursue his feelings for Lady Talisa if the Tyrells weren't on the line. They couldn't afford to lose another ally and they couldn't afford to let Robb ruin his reputation. He already reneged to the Freys.

Taking a seat in a chair by the map table, he rubbed his face out of frustration. "I…" Sighing, he interlocked his fingers to make a bridge to set his chin on. "I think I'm in love with her."

Hearing him admitting was much worse than a speculation. Jon didn't want to take it upon himself to have to ruin this small bit of happiness that Robb had, especially when Jon just selfishly had his own. How could he berate him when he too slept with a woman who wasn't of his social standing now? He was once a bastard, able to marry a lowborn or a healer before, but now he was a prince. How could he chastised Robb when he was doing the same thing?

"You promised the Tyrells that you would marry Lady Margaery, Robb. Any other time, I wouldn't stand in your way, but if I don't then I'll be letting you be known as a king that doesn't keep his promises. Worse enough we used the Freys and gave them nothing in return when we promised them two marriages... We can't do that again." He left out the part that Robb would be known as a foolish, greedy king. Jon also left out of the fact that Lady Talisa had nothing to give them in return of this marriage.

"Do you think it's fair for _you_ to tell me this?" Robb's eyes slowly look up to meet his, "You're in love with Amara, a healer as well, and you're a bastard no more. Would you give her up if a marriage that could benefit us came to present itself? You wouldn't. I know you wouldn't."

All he could do was stand there in silence, setting his jaw and keeping his eyes down-turned. Robb was right with every word. "Most Houses won't marry their daughters to me because I was a bastard. I'm a newly prince, not a rightful one. They'd see it as a slight and would rather marry off their daughters to Bran and Rickon." Even with this new title, some things wouldn't change. Things would've been much more favorable for him if their father was the one to take the bastard title away and not his half-brother. "I was also going to properly ask you if I could marry Amara knowing this."

Tight-lipped, Robb lowered his head. Jon had no idea what was going on in that mind of his. He hadn't got a good grasp on what Robb was thinking for such a long time and he felt ashamed to only assume that Robb was getting better after their talk from Dorne. It was easy to forget that Robb was just turned eighteen and would turn nineteen later on the year. Jon, himself, sometimes felt older than seventeen and would be turning eighteen himself. They were still young.

"You're right." He gave a long, tired sigh. "I'm not thinking. I'm completely forgetting just how much the Tyrells will mean to us and to our future. Not only during this war, but for the Winter." Jon gave an inquiring look, not sure what he had meant by that. "I don't even think there's enough food stored away for us to even last when we return. Surely we'll be needing all that we can get." He hadn't even thought of that himself. Jon had been hopeful that the summer crops would take care of them. "Not only that, Lady Margaery doesn't deserve me pining after another woman. She deserves better than that and I will be a dutiful husband for her. I never wanted my marriage to be a thing of politics, but I chose this. I chose the Freys before and I chose the Tyrells now. I have to fulfill my promises and be responsible, no matter how much I hate it."

"If there was something I could do… I would." He truly did wish it. If there was some other way to join hands with the Tyrells without marriage, he would've considered it but there was no other option. The Tyrells could not join the Lannisters; Jon doubted they could've been neutral in this war.

Robb smiled at that, genuinely. "Jon, you've done more than I could even ask for. You've nearly lost your life, twice. Don't ever think I'm not grateful to you because I am. I can't imagine where I would be now if it weren't for you here being in this chaos with me." Jon couldn't help but feel humbled in that moment of Robb's praise and gratitude. It still hadn't resonated with him that people noticed him a prince and as a fighter. All the things he wanted for so long were coming true and he couldn't believe any of it. "You truly want to marry her now?"

He gave a nod, "I don't see myself wanting to be with anyone else. I think it's too soon for me to ask her, so I've decided to wait."

"I'm happy for you," Robb rasped, giving him a meaningful smile. "I really am."

Before the silence could settle into the tent, the both of them heard someone come in. His eyes came to meet Lady Talisa. Her eyes were a bit swollen, proving that she had been crying. Jon had hoped that Amara wasn't the reason, especially when he was able to keep Robb calm and clear of thought about this conversation. The Volantis woman was trying her best to look composed and unfazed, but it wasn't working. Even Jon could see the glint of worry in Robb's eyes.

"I'll take my leave." Jon quickly said, hoping that things would turn out how they were supposed to. It was saddening and unfair for Robb, but it had to be done. If there was anything that Jon hated, it was doing things at the expense of hurting those he cared for.

Once he stepped back into the camp, he realized that the morning was practically gone. It passed quickly, too quickly. He saw Lady Dacey lounging around with Lady Dara at her side, speaking about something that seemed to trouble the Mormont. Rarely did Dacey where her vulnerability on her face, but from what Jon could tell, she was doing the effort to hide it from the Dayne. The two had grown close rather quickly, usually never not seen without the other. You would've thought they had been friends for years by the way they acted. As of late though, Jon noticed Dacey's strange behavior.

Dara caught sight of Eddard Karstark and ran towards him, leaving Dacey's side rather quickly. The already sour look on her face increased, and Jon decided to investigate. If Dacey wanted to be nosy about his life, he would do the same. "What's bothering you, Dacey?"

Her head quickly whipped in his direction, her eyes big and staring. "Nothing! What would be bothering me?"

Squinting his eyes skeptically, he rose a curious brow. "I don't know but you look as if you ate some sour grapes."

Rolling her emerald eyes, she glanced back towards the Dornish girl. "Dara has been blowing me off a lot lately. I bet it has something to do with ol' Ned here."

"Are you…" His head tilted to the side, "Are you jealous, Dacey? Don't tell me… Do you have feelings for Dara?"

"What?!" Dacey's practically yelled, making both Eddard and Dara turn to look at her with worried and curious faces.

"Are you alright, Dace?" Jon smirked upon the nickname and the sudden rosiness of her face gave it all away.

"I'm fine!" Jon watched her try to come up with an excuse, fumbling with her words. "The prince just… just told me a strange joke is all, right? Isn't that right, my prince?" Her eyes pleadingly look to him and he kept his stare for a while before tearing his eyes away to look at Dara.

"My sense of humor isn't all that witty for Dacey. I shocked her more than I intended." Dara seemed convinced and smiled, "Don't worry, I won't torture you with my lame jest."

She gave him a laugh before returning her conversation with the younger Karstark, allowing Dacey to sigh in relief. "That was a nice save."

"Don't expect me to keep lying." Jon warned her, his face stern to prove that he meant that. "This was just a one time thing because I want you honest with me."

The Mormont clenched her jaw, her hands curling into loose fists. "I swear to you that it is not what you think. I don't have those kind of feelings for her."

Raising his hands in surrender, he shook his head. "If you say so." Before he made his leave, he looked back at Dacey, who seemed anxious still. Even as he left, he could feel the intense heat that was her stare on the back of his head. It was too obvious now and he wouldn't tell.

"We've ran out of Lovage and a few of the Ginger Roots that we've taken with us from Riverrun." He heard a woman say, his head turned right to see Amara and one of the healers speaking. In her hand was a steaming cup of what he presumed to be tea as she looked a bit dispirited by the news. Going back to Riverrun would help them with medical supplies, he figured.

Her fingers tapped against the side of the cup as she bristled. "We'll be needing Ginger Roots than we need Lovage. There hasn't been an outbreak of pink-eye as of late, but I see some men are suffering from ulcers in the mouth. Dew-cups will cure them of that, but there aren't any grown in Riverrun or anywhere nearby."

"Is there anything we can use instead?" The older woman asked, her face showing her worry.

"Daisies are grown a lot in Riverrun." Amara smiled at the look of relief on the woman's face, "They help with ulcers."

"I'll tell the other women to slowly lower the dosages to give the men time so that we don't mix medication." Jon watched Amara nod in approval, "I'm so glad you're back. We've only know the few things you taught us and work from there, we truly hate using Firemilk. The men scream and scream, and it is worse than boiling wine."

"I understand. It is better than nothing though." Rubbing the woman's shoulders to mitigate her worries, she watched her scurry off before taking a sip of the hot drink in her hands. Jon believed he knew what exactly she was drinking.

It felt strange to be saddened by the fact, especially since he never saw himself becoming a father. He told himself he would never father a bastard in the world, never forcing a child to live the same life he did growing up. Now that he was a prince, able to have trueborn children, the idea of having a son or daughter didn't frighten him anymore. His head couldn't help but replace the image where Amara stood with her belly swollen with child. His child.

Their child would know how it was like to be raised by both their parents, who loved them and never had to restrict their affections. Jon knew his father loved him, he was sure of that more than he was sure of everything else, Ned could never be the full and proper father to him due to Lady Stark. Jon would give all of himself to his son or daughter and be to them like Ned was to all his trueborn.

"My prince," His eyes gathered their focus to see Greatjon Umber, "staring away at the healer, aren't you?"

Mortified, frozen to the spot, his eyes quickly looked up at his brother's champion. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Enough to see you moisty-eyed and pining after the girl." A grin broke out on his face, his large hand roughly shaking Jon where he stood. "I had reason to believe you were fond of her."

Little did Lord Umber know just how fond Jon was of her. As much as he wish their relationship wasn't meant to be a secret, he decided to keep quiet about it because he knew that was what Amara wanted. Whatever her reason for it, he was going to respect it until she gave him the proper explanation. He had half a mind to believe it was because what people would say despite her saying she wasn't ashamed. What woman likes to be called a whore everywhere she walked? There was no doubt in his mind they would call her the prince's whore and men would give her a hard time; hounding her, calling her names, and thinking she lay with them too. Even with his protection, it wouldn't stop what people would think of her.

"She and I are just friends." Jon told him simply, not daring to give anything away.

"That's what they all say, my prince. I can even see the king getting himself besotted with that Volantis woman and she hasn't even been here a whole month yet." Greatjon turned his attention back to Amara, "She's a good child though and deals with my vulgarity better than most women. Other women would turn their little noses up, grab their skirts, and run to the Sept to clean their ears, but she laughs. She gets it."

He knew that much because he could see the way Lady Stark loathed the way Amara found him entertaining. "You've gotten her in trouble a few times too."

"Lady Stark is so uptight! The girl is young, she can be crass if she wants." He was sure to hear a scolding if Lady Stark had heard him say that.

Amara already begun to walk away, her eyes briefly glancing at the tea with an unreadable expression before heading off. His eyes followed her until she disappeared within the tents. "When did you find out about Robb and Lady Talisa, Lord Umber?"

"I think a fortnight ago." Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to recall all of the events. "I should've known letting such a pretty woman tend to him could cause trouble."

"It doesn't matter now. Robb will do the right thing, I know he will."

"I sure hope so, my prince." With the way Lord Umber seemed unconvinced, Jon was starting to think that maybe he was being a little too hopeful himself.

* * *

 **A/N:** I can safely say in the next chapter that Stannis and Melisandre will finally make their appearance again. Sansa? Maybe, if anyone is curious to what she's up to now.


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note:** Back at it again with the long chapters.

BrightestWitchofYourAge: There was a hint about him. A small one, but a hint.

Smilin Steph: Thank you!

* * *

"One more time."

Her words didn't inspire Arya, they just frustrated her instead. She had to hold back that laugh that she wanted to let out, but she knew if she did then she would just anger the girl more. She wanted lessons and yet she didn't like the criticism all that much. It was understandable since the girl practically perfected her craft. Arya was a natural archer and honed the skill almost like she had done it all her life. It still didn't make her capable of using foreign arrows, which was what the lesson today was about.

Amara doubted Arya's frustration really lie with her. In fact, it probably had more to do with her legs being sore from the long horseback ride. Amara's own legs were sore from it, especially her backside. It was by the endurance of having learned how to ride a horse since she was three like most YiTish children that she didn't complain or found herself irritable. For Arya, however, she should've been in a Wheelhouse but there had been none, so she had to make due with riding. The funny thing about it was that Arya was so happy about being on a horse without realizing the consequences of it until now.

Drawing the arrow again, Arya aimed steadily with her eyes narrowed and locked onto the target. With a deep breath, she had made sure her arms were locked so that her aim was practically perfect. Amara kept her eyes on the target instead, thinking Arya's form was well enough to hit her intended target. The arrow had flown straight towards the armored dummy, hitting it with enough force that the helm had been knocked right off. Dropping the bow and quiver, she ran towards the dummy with Amara catching up to her. The result was what Amara hoped it would be, and the younger Stark was grinning from ear to ear.

"Looks like we did it." Turning her head, she looked down to meet Arya's eyes. "You have to make the arrowhead really, really thin but wider than the shaft. It makes it easier for the arrowhead to penetrate through the armor and into the flesh. With this, even the shaft can get itself deeper embedded in the wound." Folding her arms, she let out a sigh. "It's quite heavy since the shaft must be made thicker for the result you want. No man can escape such a fate with this arrow."

"It's amazing!" Her grin never left, Amara swore the girl's eyes were grinning too. "I can kill a man dead with just a single arrow of this. No more having to worry if he just got a little wounded."

It was so peculiar to hear a child excited about killing. It worried her, especially since Arya was so young and this world was making children kill just to survive. This war wasn't helping either and yet what could be done? Nothing except for her to keep Arya skilled in how to protect herself. She would never let a child be defenseless, especially with what happened to Bran.

"The only setback is that it makes you slower to draw again." The arrow was heavier than than any normal one. Usually the thinner the better, but this arrow was a different case. "You must use it when you absolutely need to or when the distance between you and your enemy is within your favor." She warned, making sure Arya wouldn't abuse it. All she was given with a frown and bowed brows, meaning Arya hadn't liked that at all.

Wrapping her hands near the fletchling, she attempted to pull the arrow from the Stark armor. "I don't think you're getting this back and I really don't think your king brother will be pleased I let you ruin good armor." It wouldn't budge, no matter how much strength she hadn't into the pull.

"You told him it was for a lesson, didn't you?" The smile that stretched on Amara's face was a nervous one, "…You didn't." The younger girl sighed, shaking her head.

"Do you think your brother will be happy to know I'm letting you train like this? Robb favors your mother's ideals when it concerns you." With a few more yanks, she had managed to pull it out, but not without tripping over her skirts and falling right on her bum on the hard ground. "Ow!" She hissed. Her bottom half was already sore and to fall? It definitely didn't help to let the pain soothe itself away. "Well, if that had been a real person they surely would've bled to death right now."

Arya reached out her hand, helping the healer to her feet. "Then we tell him that you were practicing, right? You can use a bow and arrow."

"As if he'll believe that." Amara would've took the blame even though neither Robb or Jon thought her to touch a weapon before. She never told them about any other sort skills outside medicine, and Jon had been so worried after she used that sword to kill Euron. It was true, she never used a sword before but she knew how to kill someone with it. It wasn't hard as far as that part was concerned. "Besides, it has been such a long time since I've touch a bow and arrow."

Her eyes gazed down at the armor-piercing arrow of her country that she crafted herself. Just remember her first lesson made her smile fondly. "Our bows are also made different. I wouldn't know how to use one of your Westerosi made bows."

"Why not make one?" Arya simply asked, shrugging her shoulders as she did. Of course she didn't see what the problem was. Arya was a straightforward girl when it came to many things, "You can, can't you?"

"There aren't any materials here for it." Amara tousled the girl's hair, "Have I ever told you I like how clearly you think?"

"Someone has to." Giving a half smile, she looked back towards the camp. "The older you get, the more complicated you think. Sometimes the answers are right in front of you, but you go on choosing the most difficult things. I'll never understand why."

"You will because one day for you too will be a woman-grown." Arya didn't seem enthused, almost like she was beginning to grow patient with the concept of time. This was the same girl that berated people for thinking and seeing her as child. Seeing as what this war was doing to people, she was sure Arya wasn't all that thrilled of completely forsaking all the good things about being a child.

The both of them walked back to camp quietly, enjoying the fair weather of the day. The air would drop in temperature at night, making the demand for more furs be constant and the men having to hunt by the first light. She was glad to be going back to Riverrun. For one she'll see Lady Catelyn again. Two, she'll be seeing all the healers and servants she came to befriend. Third, she liked the idea of meeting Edmure again and a few other River lords. Lastly, she would get to sleep in an actual bed and not these cots anymore.

Ever since she gave up sleeping in Jon's bed, she didn't have a good night's sleep since then. The healer cots were uncomfortable and she constantly rolled around. It could've been her own misery of not waking where she wanted to be that made sleeping at night all that difficult. Not just that, she had said some rather harsh words to Lady Talisa. The guilt of that conversation left her up all night too. She knew good and well that she projected most her own feelings from her situation with Jon on the woman.

Things had been awkward between them and Lady Talisa had done her best to avoid her greatly since their talk. It surprised Amara that Robb hadn't heard that the two of them spoke, she was sure either Talisa or some other healer would tell, but she didn't hear a thing. With the way Talisa was constantly in her sights, it lead her to believe she did end whatever was between her and Robb. At least the conversation was not for naught and Robb could properly marry Lady Margaery.

"Robb has been acting strange lately." Arya's sudden curious mind of Robb startled her, especially since she was in her own reverie concerning him. "Like, he's been stuck in his head or something. He's always thinking… and quiet. Its, like, he's not even really there I mean." Although she was having trouble conveying the situation, Amara understood what she meant.

She couldn't help but adore Arya's concern for her eldest brother. Ever trying to be known as rough and tough, she truly cared about her family. Whether she knew it or not, she spoke so often about Rickon, Bran, and Sansa that Amara knew fully well that she really missed them. No matter how much she denied it, it was obvious. "You know as well as I do that this war is really wearing down on your brother's shoulders. I'm sure he's just sorting things out in the only way he knows how."

It felt like she was lying, especially since she knew about this whole triangle going on with him. He was going to marry a woman he didn't know or love and give up this woman he clearly had feelings for. Not only did everyone support the idea of giving her up, she was still around. It would be rude to ask her to leave and even harsher for Robb to do that. Besides that, the helping hand was much needed. There is never enough healers in an army.

"Right…" Arya nodded, accepting her answer. "He's the king and facing all this warring. He doesn't have time to be by himself or just be himself; just Robb, you know." Amara felt stilled by her words, so much so that she had stopped walking. "Jon gets that with you, you know. Where he isn't the Prince of the North, my father's bastard or having to think about the next battle… He gets peace with you." Arya slowly turned to look at her, giving her a small smile. "I get that peace with you too."

The guilt in her thickened, laying in the center of her chest like a ton. Now her mind was screaming at how it wasn't fair to strip Robb of that little peace he was given. That peace he found in Lady Talisa. _'I did what I had to do!'_ She told herself, _'I did this for him, even for Talisa.'_ At least there was some part in her mind that had the sense to believe that. "Really? I hardly feel at peace with such a stubborn girl as you." She teased, Arya sharply turned with her face contorted in annoyance.

Soon Arya ran after her and she had lifted her skirts to run, laughing as they made their way into the camp. It was until Amara saw Tormund did she slow her steps, smiling as he was engaged in a conversation with Lord Umber. The two of them looked like giants to her as their conversation seemed rather intense by the looks on their faces.

"You lie!" Greatjon yelled, "I refuse to believe it."

"But I did." Tormund insisted, "Named her Shella too."

Rolling her eyes, she realized that it was Tormund telling his tale of the she-bear. Grabbing both of their attention, she watched Arya, who finally caught up, look at them in confusion. "What are they running their mouths about now?"

"Tormund's bear story." Her hands went to cover the girl's ears, not thinking it was appropriate for her to listen.

The ever defiant Stark girl had swatted her hands away, "I already heard it before. There's no use in hiding it from me now."

Tormund and Greatjon turned to look at them, smiling afterwards. "Amara!" Tormund called her, making her look at him as she did. "Tell this idiot that the story be true."

"No, I'm not." She looked at Lord Umber, "I don't believe it and neither do the rest of the Free Folk."

A few laughs broke out as Tormund frowned almost instantly. "Doesn't matter whether any of you believe me or not. It happened and I ain't taking it back."

"When are you guys going to go back to Castle Black?" Arya questioned, "Did Robb say he would give you some men?"

Tormund crossed his arms, nodding. "He gave us enough. We'll be going after Riverrun. He invited us to the Wedding, but I think he was just being polite. Ain't no way you lords and ladies gonna want Free Folk in your fancy castles."

Amara was sure that there would be a look of pure horror on Lady Catelyn's face seeing them. Not only that, she would have a fit since it would've been considered disrespectful to the Tyrells. Even if she would've liked to see them dance and celebrate with them, she knew that this wasn't a happy occasion anyway.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she had saw Jon making his way through the camp with Prince Oberyn at his side. Whatever they were speaking about didn't seem to hold much importance or that was her only guess since Jon always favored such a stoic stare.

As if he felt her staring, he turned his head right towards her direction and caught her. A bit startled by the sudden eye contact, she quickly gave him a smile. He returned it with one of his own before she averted her eyes, knowing very well that she had been purposely limiting the time they spent together.

He continued on, probably to check the remaining provisions. Hopefully there was enough food for them to last and Amara was quite tired of goat's milk. It wasn't her favorite and she never liked it when she was young either. It was usually given to the poor in her country, she didn't think people would actually enjoy it over here; rich or poor.

Looking back at Tormund and Greatjon, speaking about whatever her mind was picking up on, she decided to pay Robb a visit. Part of her was worried about how he was doing and feeling, and if he was bottling things up. Of course, she wasn't the right person to talk to since she favored ruining the bit of happiness he had. He was still her friend, her best friend. Sometimes best friends fought, but her Robb almost seemed to make amends… Awkward and strained as they may be.

As she reached his tent, she looked at the two guards. They told him of her arrival and he called her in, lettibg her catch sight of him standing by the firepit. He slowly turned to look at her, giving her what she felt to be a forced smile. Frowning, she closed the distance and made herself stand beside him.

"Your Grace," She could see the tightening of his face as she spoke. He still hated that she insisted on keeping things formal between them. "How are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" His eyes stared at the flickering flames.

"Honestly." Amara insisted.

"I feel angry." Despite how calm he said it, his whole aura to her proved he meant it. "I'm angry, tired, and unsure about myself… About everything." Pulling his gaze from the firepit, he faced her. "I just want this war over with."

"As do I." Hesitantly, she reached her hand to rest on his arm to give him some form of comfort. "I miss Winterfell. I miss my son… I'm tired of seeing wounded men before me."

His smile was small and sad, "Hopefully with the Tyrells it'll be over soon."

"At the cost of your happiness, I know." Looking down at her feet, she shifted in place as she stood rather awkwardly. "With war comes sacrifice…"

Robb nodded, "I chose this and I have to see it through. For a while I just kept moping around, but I'm not going to do that anymore."

"You weren't moping," Her brows furrowed together, "you were letting yourself feel, and there is nothing wrong with that. You need to or else you'll go mad."

Her liege hadn't said anything else, choosing to remain silent. Hopefully he was soaking in her words. Removing her hand from his arm, she had felt his hand quickly take hold of it. Her eyes widened as she immediately look up at him to see a very solemn look on his face. "Usually you berate me and now you're comforting me?"

Had he really saw her as a person he couldn't come to when he was hurting? Had she been that mean to him? Her eyes lowered sadly, her hand loose in his precarious hold. "The decisions you make I sometimes don't agree with, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. You're my friend, Robb. Your feelings _do_ matter to me."

A warm expression came across his face then and his hold on her hand soon loosened until he let go, letting her arm move back to her side. "I felt something for you once." The sudden confession made her freeze in place. She was definitely surprised, never thinking Robb had ever saw her as nothing more than a friend or even a nuisance at times that couldn't rightfully mind her business. "I knew you had feelings for Jon so I may have been unfair to you many of times because of my jealously."

Unsure of how to feel about his admittance, Amara looked around in thought, trying to think of any moment there was between them some romantic undertones. She couldn't recall such interactions. "I… I'm sorry if I…" She wasn't sure what she apologizing for. Had she led him on? Had she did anything to make him like her in that kind of way?"

"Don't be." He told her softly, "You have no reason to be."

"But if I had known then…"

"Then what?" asked Robb, leaving her uncertain of what she meant by that. "You wouldn't have returned my feelings then. You would have pitied me. It was better that you didn't know. I don't want to be pitied."

Biting down on her bottom lip, she nodded feebly. It was true, she would've felt sorry for him if she had known. Amara would've avoided him too in order to not inflame those feelings and probably ruin their friendship to ashes in the process.

"Sometimes I wonder every now and then how things would've been if you did return my feelings." Blankly staring at the firepit, she decided to let Robb vent. "Then I hate myself for it because I'm aware how deeply Jon feels for you. My brother deserves happiness and I'm glad he's finding it in you. He's told you how he feels, hasn't he? I don't…" Suddenly nervous, she began to laugh at how scared he look.

"I know." She told him, easing him from thinking he spilled a secret. "And he knows I feel the same for him too."

Sighing in relief, the King began to laugh. "That could've gone terribly."

Grinning, she nodded. "I'm sure Jon would've been truly angry. I've never really seen him riled, but I'm sure he would've been had you did that."

It was nice for them to laugh like this. They hadn't laughed together since… Winterfell, she realized. The healer watched as he walked over towards his table map, his eyes looking every which way but directly at it. His blue eyes soon met hers again, "I'm surprised the two of you haven't planned on getting married."

Her smile slowly melted to a frown, her eyes downcast. "That would be selfish of me, wouldn't it?"

"How so?" Mystified by what she meant, he tilted his head. "How would it be selfish?"

"He and I are of two different ranks now. He's a prince and I'm a healer, I can't possibly marry him."

"Does it really matter?" Amara bowed her brows, "What matters is if the two of you want to be together. It doesn't matter if he's a prince or not. You want to be with him, don't you?"

"I do, Robb." She admitted quietly, "But what I want and what I can have are two different things."

"Its really not." The King argued, "Would me allowing it matter? If I say that I accept the marriage, would that change anything?"

Amara halfway expected for Robb to allow it. He wanted Jon happy more than anything, but at the expense of giving away a prince? A prince he could use to build a stronger alliance for the future? "Robb, I can't accept that."

"And why not?"

The healer wished she kept herself quiet, inwardly cursing herself for being so candid about her feelings. "There might be a time where you want to strengthen the bond with a Northern house, Lord Karstark for instance. I hear he was hoping either one of you would marry his daughter Alys."

"I already decided who I would have Alys marry. I considered and decided out of gratitude for what Lord Karstark and his sons have done for me." Surprised, she raised her brows in curiosity. "My uncle… He hasn't married yet and I'm sure Lady Alys would make a good match for him." Seeing as the match didn't have any faults, she remained quiet. "Lady Margery is the biggest marriage move I could ever make, simply allying the North and the largest House of the Reach. I could've married Jon off to a Frey, but the hostility is too much there. Lord Walder would never forgive me for backing out the marriage intended for me, so that's not an option."

"Then what about Princess Arianne?" She had watched Robb visibly stiffen upon the mention. "What if Prince Doran wants to ally with House Stark by marry her to the Prince of the North? I know this might be me overthinking… but I've thought about the many possible noble ladies that Jon could marry for the better of House Stark."

The healer cornered him there and Robb slowly looked down at the table map, rubbing his chin deductively. Robb's quick thinking had soon nailed her fears down into nothing. "Doran wants his daughter on the Iron throne truthfully and Jon doesn't want it. He wants a Holdfast in the North. It's possible but unlikely." Taking on a stern look, he shook his head. "You keep finding excuses and I don't understand why. This war… Doesn't it make you think that every day might be the last?"

Amara had purposely ignored that thought. Remnants of that nightmare that kept plaguing her thoughts by day and night were resurfacing, making her think what if she was unable to stop his death. Would she be satisfied to know that she hadn't married him? That she wasn't with him if he were to die?

"Will you choose to spend what might be your remaining days miserable or make the most out of it, Amara? That's your choice. However, if Jon isn't what you want then you have to tell him that. Don't let him keep hope."

All she could do was stare at him, dazed, as she tried to look further in her mind's eye on how she could deny it this time. The thought of Jon being with someone else angered her more than it hurt. To know that someone could marry him with the greediest intentions and harm him made her hands curl into fists, tight enough to make her nails dig little crescents in her palms. She wanted to protect him in the only ways she could, but how could want to do that and hurt him simultaneously? Amara had done nothing but make him run in circles, pine, and suffer for the past couple of months.

"People will talk." Amara blinked a few times, gathering her focus so that she could clearly look at Robb.

"When has Jon never been talked about?" It was true. All people seemed to know him as Ned Stark's bastard and now being made a prince. The rumors about him were sometimes outlandish but they were everywhere. "If Jon kept worrying what other people thought of him then I don't think he would've made it this far."

"If he asks," Letting out a much needed sigh, her lips formed a crescent, "then I won't decline."

"Good." It was peculiar how relieved Robb seemed to be despite the matter not concerning him. "I'm glad this is finally squared away."

 **...**

Jon didn't know how to feel about returning to Riverrun. He had gone back to the place that had made him feel like an outsider. The air was still very much the same except just a little bit more chilly than it was last time. It was the sound of the river that brought him some sort of comfort, reminding him that their return here would be a brief one. It was only for Robb's wedding before they were off again, going back to the Westerlands and taking Casterly Rock with a hundred thousand men more of the Reach. Despite not having meeting them yet, Jon felt like the Tyrells would probably be a hassle to get along with.

Feeling eyes on him, he looked to his left to see it was Arya staring at him. His little sister had seemed so nervous about coming here, mainly because she would be reunited with Lady Stark. Arya wasn't too fond of crying and there was no doubt in his mind that she would pour some tears at the sight of her mother. He would've offered comforting words but he couldn't think of any. So he gave her a smile and he hoped it was enough. When it was reflected back, Jon was sure she could prepare herself from the reunion she was so anxious about.

Edmure had came out to greet him with Lady Stark at his right. Her eyes were obviously searching, looking high and low for her youngest daughter. When she had caught sight of Arya, she broke out into a sprint. Arya barely had enough time to get all the way down from her horse before the woman pulled her into a tight hug. He could tell the Tully woman was crying from her trembling shoulders and Arya's small hands grabbed fist fulls of the back of the woman's dress. Most of the men and ladies smiled upon the sight of reunion, glad to see something good for once.

Looking for Amara, he had saw her watching with a bright smile. Her hands quickly wiped away the stray tear that felt before Lady Dacey wrapped an arm around her shoulders, probably teasing the girl for tearing and being mushy. Dacey wasn't much of an emotional person from what he knew and she often teased others that were.

Robb had eventually made his way to his mother, who hugged him just as fiercely. Part of Jon was jealous and the other part of him happy. He always had to watch how a normal family greeted, smiled, and reunited with each other. They were his family too, by a half, but he could never understand what that felt like to have an entire family to come home to.

Down from his horse and standing along with the others, he felt a nudge to his side. Jon quickly whipped his head to see Amara standing right next to him. She didn't say anything, remaining quiet with her eyes observing the happy reunion. Curious as to what she was thinking, he felt surprised when her hand latched onto his. With wide eyes, he could feel what felt like a hundred eyes staring at him, everyone probably seeing the open declaration. Looking only at her, wondering what this had meant, she still didn't meet his eyes, not even once. She behaved like she wasn't revealing their relationship. The shock began to wear off and he held her hand tighter in his.

"We could be a family, you and I." Jon found himself saying, knowing it should've been kept in his head. "I know I can't replace Naran, but I could be your family."

He was too afraid to look at her now, afraid that she would reject him. He didn't feel her notioning to remove her hand away. "You didn't know?" Amara was smiling, he could immediately tell by her voice alone, "We already are."

Turning to face her again, her eyes were crinkling as they always did when she smiled with her whole face. He could kiss her now, he could kiss her a million times for her saying that, but he controlled himself because of all the eyes on them. The last thing he needed was Lord Umber making such a big deal out of it or the other men jeering. In fact, he was surprised none of them—

He spoke too soon.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders, shaking him and forcing them to let each others hand go. He watched Amara be lifted in the air by Lord Umber as Torrhen and Eddard hardly let him be still. "Would you look at that!" Greatjon beamed, "The two finally decided to get themselves together."

Jon never once liked being in the center of attention. It had him cringing even now since everyone was looking at him, even Lady Stark and Robb. Robb smiled though, looking happy, while his mother was bewildered. "Finally!" Torrhen Karstark sighed, almost like he had been waiting for this to happen for months.

Glaring at him from the corner of his eyes, the hardened look started to melt and a smile found itself formed. "So when are you two gonna get yourselves married?"

"We are here to celebrate our King's marriage," Amara told him warningly, "Jon and I are in no rush to be wed."

"Jon's been a maid all these years," Theon snorted, a rakish grin across his face. "If his prick hasn't fallen off yet, I'm sure it won't now."

Normally he would've argued back, but he didn't say anything this time. Whether the two of them got along or not, he knew this was Theon's way of congratulating him; strange as it was. "We could have a double wedding." Edmure suggested, smiling as he did. "My sisters did years ago."

This was Robb and Lady Margaery's day. It would've felt intrusive and he was sure the Tyrells had prepped this wedding for days now. For them to share this day? He didn't think it right. "That is kind of you, Lord Edmure, but we'll have to decline." At least she was on the same thought path as him, "As I said, we're in no rush. Let our King and our Queen-to-be have this day for themselves."

Still in Greatjon's arms, Amara briefly looked at him and nodded. It was her way of asking if he approved of what she did and he gave her a nod in confirmation. Lord Umber brought her in for a another bear hug and like a child, she had laughed and embraced him in return.

All this noise followed them into the castle with Lord Umber refusing to let Amara go. He carried her, talking to her about something he could barely hear since Torrhen and Eddard decided to keep talking about Gods-know-what. He had tuned them out a while ago, keeping his eyes focused on who he realized was soon be his wife. Wife. He liked the sound of that. Jon never thought he be married and it suddenly became all that he wanted.

Dacey had joined in on Torrhen's taunts, he heard her voice among the many. Jon merely shook his head, catching the end of her words and found himself less than annoyed by it all. "Our prince and our king are to be married!" Dara sounded excited, clapping her hands as she spoke. "Isn't that a sign of good luck?"

"I've never heard of luck depending on how many people get married." Dacey commented, thoroughly confused as Jon was.

"Really?" Dara suddenly had a look of doubt, "I thought I read that somewhere…"

Chuckling, he couldn't help but find the humor of how troubled she looked. He also caught the look of adoration coming from Dacey, only further proving his suspicions that the Mormont held some feelings for her.

They entered the Great Hall where servants were running around, still preparing for the Wedding that would take place tomorrow. In the center of the arrangements, he caught sight of a beautiful and young girl with hair of brown. Next to her was an older woman, who her arm linked to the brunette's. Jon had a feeling that with the poise and beauty the younger possessed that she was Lady Margaery.

Robb was looking at her now and there was not one sort of reaction. Jon wondered if he was seeing her disdainfully in mind about how this was the woman that separated him from Talisa. He hoped not, he hoped that Robb could grow to love her. Whether Margaery was a good person or not, she didn't deserve a grudge bared against her.

"Margaery, Lady Olenna." Lady Stark called them, beckoning for them to come over. Margaery smiled at the sight of her and spoke to Olenna, what the two said was beyond him since they were too far to hear it. They came over, their steps graceful despite the rush. Soon they were standing right before Robb and next to Lady Stark. "This is my son, Robb."

His king brother took the small hand of his betrothed and gave a chaste kiss to her knuckles, "It is nice to finally meet you, Lady Margaery." By off chance, he felt like his brother rehearsed this line. There was no emotion, just mechanical. Even the look in his eyes seemed distant.

Lady Stark noticed it, her eyes sharpened and she gave him a glower. He wasn't sure if the Tyrells noticed is because Margaery merely smiled sweetly and wrinkled her nose in a playful manner. "I heard my husband to be husband to be handsome, but I hadn't thought you'd be more than just that, Your Grace."

This marriage was going to start off rocky, he could tell. His eyes slowly slid over to Amara, who looked at Robb with worry. Even she could see it, she even turned to look at him wearing such a sad face. It was going to be up to them to help Robb through this, he could already tell.

Everyone began to disperse as Robb and Margaery linked arms and walked away, possibly to get acquainted with each other. Amara hurriedly looked around, searching for someone and that's when caught Talisa in the back looking like the world before her had shattered like a glass of a mirror. Amara looked hesitant unsure if she should go to comfort her and at the end, it seemed that she chose not to. Jon thought it best to let the woman get her grief, she had to see it. She couldn't be coddled or hidden away and have her feelings spared. It was sad, Jon thought, and he hate how it had to be done.

Walking towards Amara, his hand took hold of her wrist and she kept herself still. "I know." She told him, "It is just I can't imagine the pain of watching someone you love be with someone else."

"It would be better if she left." Jon reasoned, "She shouldn't stay here."

"That would be best." The healer mumbled, almost like she felt wrong to say it. Amara's heart was too big and even though he loved her for it, he knew that it often got herself in trouble. Jon's own heart sometimes felt too big for his body and he felt too much of hypocrite to not act like he didn't want to help Talisa. He did, he truly did, but he knew he couldn't.

To lessen the guilt, he had led Amara away. Not wanting to let themselves be stuck on mulling over what couldn't be changed. Ghost had walked alongside them, quiet as he always been, as he took her to the Godswoods. It was the only peaceful place and the only place Jon generally liked about Riverrun. The Old Gods never let him feel so foreign.

Jon fixed the furs that rest on her shoulders, making sure they didn't expose too much of her neck. Amara smiled at the act, looking up at him as he fastened the straps a bit tighter. "What?" He questioned, unsure of why she was gazing at him like that.

"Nothing." She shook her head, "I just like the way you take care of me."

Her words made him feel flustered now, which was silly considering on the fact they had slept together. Why should some flimsy, sweet words make him feel so shy? Jon didn't think he could really believe the idea that the two of them was together and would be married one day.

"I'm sorry for how I've been acting the last few days." The apology came from nowhere, at least to him it did. Her blue eyes looked down at the ground that was covered in many leaves of various shades, mainly of hues of orange with specks of green of the grass peeking through. The Autumn made the trees shed leaves, but the Heart tree's leaves never seemed to fall. "Robb was the one who spoke some sense into me."

"About what?" Knitted his brows together, Jon really had no idea what she was talking about. She did seem to limit their time together and he had reasoned that it was because they decided—more like she decided—to keep what was between them a secret.

"You know what I mean." She muttered a bit frustratedly, making him smile at how quick to anger she was. "About me keeping us a secret. I wasn't ashamed, I truly wasn't, but I was worried that us being together would ruin what might have been good for your House in the future. You're a prince and I had stripped myself of my princess rank for the low one of a healer. I thought you would need to marry a highborn for the better."

It made him feel stupid to think that she kept a secret because she was worried what would happen to her reputation. It almost irritated him that she would think he wouldn't be honorable and marry her after taking her maidenhead. It was his intention for them be together even before that, and yet she didn't believe he would ask her to marry him?

"I also didn't want people to say you ruined me and that you whore'd during a war so that you could marry a proper woman when the war was done." That stilled him. _'She was worried about what people say about me?'_ All the irritation had left just as quickly as it came, "Your life has been so hard and I didn't want to make it any harder for you."

So this was how it felt? To have someone protect you and sacrifice themselves in the process? Jon was used to do that for everyone else, so he never expected for someone to even think to that for him. "Did I ever tell you…." Pressing a kiss in the sea of her black hair, he reeled her into a tight embrace, "how much I love you?"

Her arms wound themselves around him, her hands gripping onto his doublet beneath the furs. "No," She answered him, "but now is a good start."

Unable to suppress his laugh, he felt her burying her face against the center of his chest. The wound had healed quickly, thanks to her. There was a scar there, one he was bound to have for life, but he hadn't mind it. He got this scar in efforts to save her even though it ended up him being the one that needed saving.

"We could get marry here in the Godswoods since we won't return to Winterfell until the war is over." Amara pulled away from him, tilting her head back so that she could properly look at him. "I'm not sure how the YiTish marry…" His confusion was written all over his face, making her chuckle.

"You believe in the Old Gods," Her eyes looked around, "and the last time I was going to marry before my gods…" She trailed off, quietening over a reason he knew. Shaking the thought away, she kept her lips crescent. "I really don't mind getting married before the heart tree."

"I don't mind getting married anywhere or before any god as long as it is with you." Just the tiniest bit of him still believed in the Old Gods even though he still resented them for not protecting his father. Even so, he was still a Northerner. He only felt it right, but even if he had completely deserted his faith, he hadn't cared where he married her.

Her eyes blinked several times in her surprise before she meekly lowered her head, pressing her face against him again. His head lifted upon the sound of crunching leaves, alerting him that someone was coming towards them. Amara must've heard too, slowly taking steps away from him so that she could turn to see who interrupted this time alone between them.

It was Robb and Margaery, much to his surprise. She was speaking, Robb adding a few words every few minutes or so within. His eyes looked up to see them and Jon could see the surprise in his eyes at the sight of them. "Oh, I didn't know anyone was here…" Margaery looked at the both of him, "Apologies, my prince."

"It's quite alright, Lady Margaery." Giving her a smile, he briefly looked at Amara, who folded her hands before her. "Lady Margaery this is my betrothed, Amara."

"Oh, so you're the one Lady Catelyn speaks so highly of?" Almost immediately, the brunette took Amara's hands. "And you'll be my good-sister too? I think we should get better acquainted with one another." Friendly, that was all Jon could make over her other than her reputation and looks. Amara looked stunned, eyes fully open and her lips parted slightly.

"I…" Giving a curious tilt of her head, she gave a weak nod. "I would be honored, Lady Margaery."

Wrinkling her nose as she smiled, Margaery shook her head. "Just call me Margaery. As I said, we'll be goodsisters, let us be comfortable with one another beforehand."

Robb looked at the interaction between both women with inquisitiveness. Naturally, Jon wasn't sure how they would make of another until now. Margaery seemed so eager to strengthened relationships in the family while Amara, usually friendly herself, seemed rather unsure. What was making Amara so strange was bothering him and he figured he could ask her about it later.

His brother then turned to look at him, "Have you seen Talisa?" He asked quietly, trying not to let Amara or Margaery hear them.

It made sense to why he was concerned, but Jon wished he pushed the woman farther in his mind. "Not since we arrived." He gave his honest answer, "But I think it be best you leave her be. She was… she was pretty upset." A flash of hurt went across his brother's eyes as his head moved in a sharp nod.

"You're right." The way he said it was so hollow, like he hadn't really believed that. Robb told him he would try his best and he was already failing when they just arrived.

 **...**

Before the giant feast to celebrate the wedding that would for tomorrow in the Great Hall, Amara gathered her letters and present to read and unwrap in her room. She never realized that so many would be sent to her and it made her all the more giddy. Just to know that she was thought of like this had made her uncontrollably happy.

Quite a lot of them were from Austin, a couple from Bran, and a few from Rickon. There was even a letter from Ros, which made her heart quicken. It was sent from Winterfell to Riverrun so that she could receive it from what she was told. Deciding to read Ros' letter first since it was the only one she sent, she unfolded the parchment to be gifted with the sight of Ros' beautiful handwriting.

 _Miss me?_

 _I most certainly miss you, Amara, quite more than I intended to. I kept telling myself that there would be no way I would miss that prudish girl that I met who only thinks about a bastard and flowers. And yet here I am, truly missing her and the scented oils she would make just for me._

 _If there is one thing I don't miss, its Wintertown. I love it here. King's Landing is so very warm and the pay here is much, much better. The customers leave me busy since brothels here are quite the commodity. Some boys and girls have such strange requests, very odd and very specific. You wouldn't believe what was asked of me. The reward, however, was well worth it. I got me a couple gold dragons just to please these queer folks._

 _Does Theon ever talk about me? Is the stupid boy even still alive, really? I'm only asking because he practically chased me down in that turnip cart I left riding on. I'm sure he's going mad without me. I can't blame him though. I'm quite the catch, so much so that I'm the most famous girl here like I was in Wintertown. Not only that, I was the only woman that stupidly entertained that unreasonable arrogance of his too. Any other woman would've shoved him out a window or tell him to never come back._

 _How are you though, love? Have you finally decided to spill your feelings to Jon Snow? Last I heard of him, he took down the Kingslayer in a battle in some woods. All the women swooned at hearing about him being so valiant. The whole story was the only thing talked about for weeks! They even asked me if I knew him. I'm sorry if my tellings of him made them all the more curious and pray he comes to King's Landing one day. That wouldn't matter because I know good and well he only has eyes for a friend of mine._

 _Send a raven when you can. I want to hear from you. Just because we're far apart doesn't mean our friendship is over. I promised you that, didn't I?_

 _Ros._

Despite her smiling from ear to ear, there were tears falling like rivulets down her face. This letter had her laughing and suddenly crying, making her heart feeling light and heavy simultaneously. If only she had been reasonable and stayed in Riverrun, she would've replied to this letter sooner. At least she had more to tell her, she doubted she would be able to tell her all the events that occurred with one letter. So much has happened since then, but she wanted to tell Ros all of it.

What mattered most to her was that Ros was happy, enjoying King's Landing. That was all she could ever hope for, for knowing Ros was happy when she left the North.

Her eyes lingered at the letter few a for minutes before shifting through Austin's letters once again. Austin had very eventful days in Winterfell, and seemed to have forged friendships with Jojen and Meera Reed. He even teased that Bran had fallen in love with Meera. She confirmed it when she came across the girl's name in one of Bran's letters. It was good to know that Bran was happy and was learning to enjoy life again.

Rickon's letter was possibly the cutest things she ever laid eyes on. His handwriting wasn't as neat as Bran or Austin's, but it was clear that he tried his best. He also sent her drawings, pictures very beautiful and detailed ones of Bran riding the horse of the saddle Tyrion designed. Some horseriding pictures had Austin and who he assumed to be Meera since she was the only girl in the picture. He also informed her that he continued his training and secret, luckily escaping from being caught. Hearing that her son and the two Stark boys were well in the North seemed erased all the fears she felt about how they were fairing.

Lastly was Jon's present, one that she was very eager to open. Her fingers were shaking as she tried to calm herself from being so excited. A letter had fallen out from the unwrapped package, but her eyes were too enraptured by what she assumed was to be a hairpin.

It was large in size since it was long enough to lay itself ontop of her hands. Her mind immediately recognized it to be a Heather flower, one that someone took very much time to give even the smallest of details to. Whoever made this hairpin had really cared about the quality and left her marveling at it for minutes straight.

The Heather flower is a rare evergreen because of how it endures the Winter. What made it different from most evergreen was that it also kept it flowers too in Winter since most flowers died to be born again in the Spring.

Her fingers roamed against the hairpin, feeling the softness of the ridges and plains of every petal. She couldn't stop the smile that grew every second that she stared at it, especially since it reminded her of Yi Ti. Heather flowers grew there, she remembered seeing them every Winter of the years of her life she spent there; alive and growing, blooming so hopefully and reliably in its very own practical sort of way. It was such a tenacious thing, refusing to die in bitter Winter.

Like all flowers, it had its own meaning. The purple ones that were much more common meant admiration, beauty, and solitude. White Heathers? They meant "protect from danger". It made her wonder why Jon thought the white ones were more befitting since white wasn't the color most people chose for a flower to posses. Amara, who saw the beauty in all flowers, understood it though. She saw the white for its complete wholeness; its satisfying entirety. Everyone thought of white as the lack of color, when in reality, all the colors the other flowers possessed were just fragments of white.

Wanting to pin it to her hair, she thought for a moment that it would be best to save it for another time. Perhaps when they married? Amara didn't intend to wear white, white wasn't necessarily the color scheme for a YiTish wedding dress she planned to wear. It would compliment it though since she wanted it red and white.

Picking up the letter from the floor, she jumped at the sudden knock and turned to look at the door. "Come."

She smiled at the sight of Lady Catelyn, who entered wearing a dress of color for the first time. It was blue, a brighter hue than the usual navy she would wear, but not loud like the sky color. It was like a sweet royal blue. Still, the woman looked so worn down; tired, sad, and exhausted. It was obvious she hadn't slept right for days. Placing the letters down on the vanity along with Jon's gift, she walked over towards Lady Catelyn and reached for her hands. "You need some rest, my lady."

Catelyn shook her head dismissively, "I came to see how you were, not to be lectured." Lowering her head meekly, she felt her hands given a squeeze. "You had me worried for months, you know that?" Amara suddenly felt like a child, small and guilty. Lady Catelyn warned her not to go alone and she stubbornly went anyway causing so much chaos for that one, stupid decision. "I'm relieved to see you whole and well."

Raising her eyes to look up at the red-haired woman, she saw the small smile present. "I'm sorr for not listening to you. If I could go back, I definitely would've done everything differently."

Lady Catelyn merely looked her over and sighed. That hadn't eased her at all but she suppose that was better than the woman berating her. She led the both of them towards the chairs by the fireplace, letting her know that this conversation wasn't going to end anytime soon. Taking a seat once the older woman did, she folded her hands on her lap and raised her head some, trying to alleviate the shame that still lingered.

"How is that you managed to get yourself in Euron's hands?" Amara briefly looked at Catelyn's stare, seeing the intensity. She dragged her eyes away to look at the fireplace since she rather the heat than the cold eyes of Catelyn Stark.

"When I was young and traveling to Westeros, I came across Euron since he was on a mission to raid most of Essos." Despite the man being dead, she was still breathing life to his name. It didn't feel like he would ever truly go away, "I don't remember the name of the Town, but we were right next to the Summer sea. A family took me in for a short while until I boarded the next ship for Westeros."

"He came in his red ship named the Silence and he pillaged and raped. He took what and whomever he wanted. I barely knew the people but I was fond of them already, and I had to watch them die because of him. I was young, barely able to speak the Common Tongue, and he destroyed everything and everyone. Then he walked to board his ship like had done nothing at all. Before he went into the Silence, I told him the next time I laid eyes on him again that I would kill him. I had been that bold."

Shaking her head, she had rubbed the ends of her hair together with her thumb and forefinger, her eyes glazed as she kept reliving the memories. "Jason Mallister was in Seagard while I was there and he offered to pay for a room at the inn he and his son were staying in. Me, being stubborn and cheap, decided I would stay at a much cheaper place and broke away from him. That's when Euron found me. Perhaps he was waiting until I was alone before he shown himself to me. Then he forced me onto his ship and trapped me at Pyke."

"And you escaped with Theon's sister, Asha?" The healer nodded, confirming it. "Did he ever say what he planned for you?"

"First he was going to use me to make amends with his brother, Victarion. He killed one of Victarion's salt-wives before and planned for me to be the peace offering. That or I'd be his salt-wife for reasons unknown to me…" The sudden realization had hit her. She never told Lady Catelyn of her life in Yi Ti who she was or that she was once a princess. What would the woman think? Would she resent her from keeping such information? Surely, she would be angry that she kept that secret.

Unsure of whether to reveal it or not, she kept herself quiet after that. The Stark woman looked at her curiously, almost like she knew something was amiss. The interrogative look then passed and her eyes had become rather soft, "Speaking about him must bring memories of him you wish to forget." Although that was truth, it was further than what it actually was. "He is dead and there is no reason to give him life through words. Let him be forgotten."

"I see you've taken to Lady Margaery." Changing the topic seemed like the better idea, that and because she wanted to distract herself from feeling guilty. "She is very…" Amara paused, trying to figure out the proper word, "sociable… Friendly to put into simpler words."

"Yes, she is." Catelyn smiled for once, it was minuscule but it was on at the very least. "She likes to be around others, converse, and make friends. I'm sure it would be easy for the both of you to get along."

Amara wouldn't say that just yet. Every time she looked at Margaery, she thought of the girl that she had made Robb suffer for. She still didn't feel right about hurting Talisa or breaking them apart, even if it was for the better. There was still the idea that maybe Margaery, Tyrell or not, could be a better fit for him anyway. It still hurt that he had to be heartbroken in the process. And from what she could tell earlier, Robb was at least trying, very minimally.

"I look forward into getting to know her." Of that she was sincere, even giving a smile to add further proof. Amara did like meeting new people, she had to being a healer. Sometimes she considered herself friendly even though she liked children more than adults. Perhaps that's why she gotten fond of the Northern men and women who had such childish attributes to them. People that were stern and serious, she tended to shy away from.

"You ought to, especially now that you'll be marrying Jon." Since this morning, the healer had been curious to how the Tully-Stark felt about finding that out. Knowing how the woman felt about Jon, she wondered how this marriage would affect their relationship.

"Are you… angry about it?" The question came out slow, almost like she was fearful to know the answer.

Lady Catelyn sat there neutral in expression, her eyes looking at the fire before slowly sliding themselves to meet her gaze. "It is not for me to be angry about." She simply said, "I am fond of you, Amara, very much so. I care for you and because I do, I wish for your happiness. After all you've done for me and my family, how could I not wish that for you?" There was a but coming, she knew that there was. "But I will never like Jon. Every time I see him, I think of Ned. I think of how much of a Stark he looks, I think of Ned's betrayal right in front of my face."

"People think that it is easy to see the child their husband made within their marriage. I, being dutiful and fulfilling my responsibilities as a wife, had to endure my husband bedding some woman while I was caring for my son alone. I don't even know who the woman is and I once was curious, but I don't wish to know it now. What if she be some whore? That would only wound me deeply. Just the thought that he found solace in some sally months after being with me… Jon is not a terrible person, I never once thought that. It is Ned's betrayal that I see when I look at him."

"I never knew how Jon would grow to be either. Whether he would grow up and want to lay claim in what was meant for my children. I was uncertain if he would have that greed. He doesn't, I know he loves my son. He loves all my children and never asks for anything. He only further reminds me of Ned and I hate that and I hate myself for bearing this resentment towards him. It is like I am hating Ned and I loved him… I still do."

Not once had she expected for her to be so candid about the real source of her hatred for Jon. Amara sank further into the seat, wondering how she would feel in the woman's shoes. If Jon married her, put a child in her, and then left for war and then came back with a bastard? Surely, she would hate him. _Him_. She would hate Jon for that. Amara just couldn't find herself hating the child for it, but she could understand Lady Catelyn's pain. Seeing traces of her husband on another's woman child… It must maimed her heart day and night.

"I have no opinion about your marriage towards him." Lady Catelyn added, sighing afterwards. "I just wonder why Robb didn't manage to lay claim to your heart. What made Jon better than my son?"

Had she known? Amara couldn't help but wonder, immediately straightening in her seat now. Did she know that Robb possessed feelings for back then? Confused and even a little furious, more so at herself for not noticing any of it, she shook her head. "Robb is a wonderful person. He is honorable, kind, and strong. He is my best friend. Although we argue, I still want what is best for him, even if it means him hating me because of it. Robb and I tend to get lost in our good intentions and we bicker because of it."

It felt strange to explain how she loved Jon, almost like she felt it to be too private. Lady Catelyn waited for the explanation, composed as ever. "I don't know how to explain it," She told her truthfully, "All I can say is that I met a lonely, sullen boy with a heart far too big." She crinkled her eyes at the silliness of her reasons. "And I decided I want to know him, protect him, and fell for him along the way."

By the lack of voice, she could only watch as Lady Catelyn considered her words. How she had taken to them? She had no clue whatsoever. It was sudden when woman stood to her feet, ambling her way towards the door. She opened it with a turn of the handle just for Ghost to come dashing in. Amara smiled at the sight of him, feeling him immediately try to climb up her like a lap dog. Her hands combed right into his pure, white fur.

"I haven't," Lady Catelyn's voice stole her attention, making her shift eyes away from Ghost and up at her, "changed my thoughts of you." The red-haired woman slowly turned, her expression warm. "You can always come to me when you are in need."

Relieved to know that Lady Catelyn hadn't abandoned her, she beamed. "Thank you, Lady Catelyn."

"The seamstresses have made you clothes to wear. You are to be a lady, a Stark, and you must dress accordingly. Thank the Seven those robes are gone." Giggling, she wrinkled her nose as Ghost's wet tongue slid up her cheek. Lady Catelyn had left with that little lecture and Amara didn't seem all that angry about the idea of wearing dresses fitted for a lady. Perhaps it is because she knew it would be expected of her now and only solidified the change of things.

The door was shut close, leaving Amara with a whining Ghost. If she had stopped her affections for him just a minute, he would let out a high-pitched cry. "Now you want my attention…" Her eyes squinted skeptically, "Did you do something? Last time you chewed Theon's boots and came running to me." With a tilt of its head, it seemed as if it was denying what she was saying with a look of innocence. She rose a brow, further believing that he had done something he shouldn't have.

The door suddenly opened again, her head quickly turning to catch a few of the servants she remembered from before. In their arms were folded clothes, what she believed to be the dresses Lady Catelyn mentioned minutes ago. They bowed their heads apologetically, she smiled at them to ease the tension. Ghost paid them no mind, thinking it cute to climb on top of her and shove his face right into her.

"That's where he went." She heard Jon say and she looked at him from the corner of her eyes, trying to find a comfortable position as she tried to calm the direwolf. "You aren't spoiling him again, are you?"

"No." She told him defiantly, "I don't _spoil_ him anyway. Isn't that right, Ghost?" The wolf yipped at that, making her grin. "See?"

The look on his face clearly showed he didn't believe her and it made her want to laugh since she liked when he tried his best to look annoyed. It wouldn't last, fading away in just minutes, before he sighed. "He just learned how to not hop on a bed, so don't give him ideas."

"What's wrong with him sleeping at the bottom of the bed? He isn't going to hurt anyone." She didn't see the harm in that. Ghost deserved to be comfortable as he slept and the bed was better than the floor.

"Says the girl who rolls at least fifty times in her sleep." Now it was her turn to glowering, feeling embarrassed by that. "I know you usually don't." Confused, she knitted her brows together. How would he know that? Her eyes looked to the ceiling, trying to recall how he could ever know how exactly she slept. It was then that the sudden memory of waking in Jon's bedchambers back in Winterfell when she grieved about being unable to save Bran came before her mind's eye.

He was gone when she woke, but he actually watched her sleep? "That's very curious..." She slew her eyes towards him, "Watching a girl while she sleeps. It is very, very curious."

He didn't feed into her teasing, making her pout now that he was growing resistant. He took the seat that Lady Catelyn occupied minutes ago. "What did Lady Stark say?" His question didn't come as much as surprise. Usually, he didn't really care what the two of them discussed but he figured it be important since it had been months since they last spoken to one another.

"She spoke of Euron and a few other things." She didn't find it appropriate to bring up their discussion about him. Amara was sure he didn't care what the woman thought of him anymore, but bringing it up would be akin to opening old wounds.

"Nothing about Lady Margaery?" The healer grew confused by his sudden curiosity of the Tyrell girl. "I figured she would be more than glad to push the two of you to be friends." Hearing him explain himself, she now understood his curiosity.

"I wouldn't say push exactly." Finding that too strong of a word, she gave it a rightful term. "I would say she encouraged it."

"And how do you feel about that? You didn't seem all that enthused about her earlier." It made her cringe that he picked up on that. Was she really that obvious? Had been because that the two were closer than they ever been that they picked up the slightest of details? Amara frowned at this, wishing she had a stronger facade.

It was normal for husband and wife to know each other thoroughly, wasn't it? Her mother seemed to know everything about her father from what she could remember. Even Lady Catelyn seem to know such great deals of her husband, even though other parts were grey or completely hidden from her. It couldn't be so bad for Jon to be able to read her.

Shrugging her shoulders, she let out a sigh. "I'm not sure, really." There was so much she didn't know about Margaery that she couldn't make the right assessment. "She seems nice and friendly…" He seemed to have already thought the same since he nodded in agree. "Every time I look at her though, I just see the woman that came between Robb and what he wanted. I feel guilty. I especially feel sorry towards her because she's going into this marriage not knowing that her intended has feelings for another woman."

Jon's hand came to rest on her shoulders, giving it a comforting squeeze. "There's nothing you nor I can do about that. Robb has to sort this all out. We've done what we could, now the rest is up to him."

"But Robb has sacrificed far too much!" Amara didn't mean to raise her voice or wanted to get so passionate about it. "It isn't fair…I don't want to keep letting him sacrifice more and more of himself for this stupid war. This war that should've never happened. This war would've never came into existence if hadn't been for that insufferable brat and his mother-aunt and Kingslayer father… uncle! Whatever he is!"

"I know it's hard to watch him go through this, Amara." Her eyes refused to look at him, knowing he was going to calm the rage that she felt over the situation. "If there had been some off-chance to save him from all this, I would have done it by now. Robb has to face this, this is just the way things are for now. He'll overcome it."

Why was he right? Why did they have to accept this? Why did she feel like there was something she could do when her mind couldn't come up with a single thing? Laying her head atop of Ghosts, she stroke the direwolf's side in a means to comfort herself through him.

Three knocks obliterated the short-lived silence that came as she looked to Jon, wondering who wanted to see her now. He took it upon himself to get himself on his feet and open the door to see the servants lowering their heads respectfully at the sight of him. "Forgive us, my prince, but we are here to draw Amara proper bath."

"I'll see you at the feast." She nodded and watched Ghost clamber himself on his paws to follow Jon out. Amara wasn't looking forward to this feast at all. How awkward was it going be to see everyone celebrating while Robb was not.

 **...**

The Great Hall was filled with so many people and he could hardly hear himself think. Taking another swig of the Arbor gold that the Tyrells richly brought in, he enjoyed the burn that the wine gave him down his throat. It was a distraction, a stinging and good distraction, and he hoped to drink himself to a state of calm. It was entirely arbitrary and nonsensical since Robb himself never met a calm drunk. All he really wanted his head clear and not keep it a muddled mess. He didn't want to fight the thought of thinking disdainfully of the woman that would be his wife.

Margaery was beautiful, he could at least admit that. She was an earthly kind of beauty, one that wasn't loud or foreign. Her hair wasn't a telluric brown, it was more like the color the chestnuts he seen hanging from the branches of some of the trees in the Godswoods of Winterfell. It was odd of him to compare it to such, but he wasn't sure why just gazing at that curly hair of hers brought him a sense of calm. The North was filled with women with dark hair, even coming across a beautiful red like Sansa or like the sally Theon was infatuated with what felt like a long time ago, was a rarity. That bright color brown was also rare.

Her eyes were blue, just like his own, except everyone compared his to the solid and coldness of ice while hers were like the sky. Sometimes he forgot what a clear sky looked like living in the North where it was always grey, but hers reminded him of what one looked like. Strangely enough, she smiled brightly too, much too bright like the sun. Sometimes it blinded him and then it made him feel guilty for staring at it for so long. Margaery was too much like a clear, sunny day and it made him uncomfortable.

Theon took note of her provocative, Southern dressing style. The King nearly wanted to slap his own friend for some of the perversions that came out of his mouth at the sight of the girl's cleavage. Robb hadn't liked it because he preferred his women to dress modestly, even though he supposed such clothing would seem appropriate when the sun was constantly out. No woman would dare dress like that in the freezing North unless she was just a bold woman that didn't mind nipping wind.

His eyes followed her around the room, watching her interact with all sorts of people. She liked to talk, a lot, and seemed to make many people she came across smile or laugh, sometimes both. It surprised him how appreciatively she greeted the Wildlings when he expected her to treat them with contempt like most of the Tyrells were doing. She even told her father she wished for them to attend the wedding, so that she could proudly boast that "Wildlings attended my wedding!". It seemed like such an odd thing to be proud about and it made him…laugh.

His betrothed slowly turned and caught him staring at her, smiling as soon as their eyes met. Swallowing thickly, he quickly averted his eyes to pay attention elsewhere, not wanting her to know that he had been following her movements for half of the feast. Picking up his wine goblet, he downed the rest of the drink and shook his head in attempts to rid himself of his thoughts. It hadn't worked since he immediately began to interrogate himself about how would Talisa feel that he was so observant of a woman he didn't even want to be with. Surely, she would be heartbroken. He hadn't even looked for her in the Great Hall and now he felt himself guilty. If there was anyone that deserved his complete attention, it was her.

Letting himself look high and low the room in search for her with eyes alone, he caught the Volantis healer standing rather awkwardly with the other healers of the army. Her smile was small and she had kept wringing her hands as she stood awkwardly. _'She shouldn't have come.'_ Robb thought, knowing that this feast was probably hurting her.

As much as he wanted to go to her, comfort her, he knew that sitting in this seat at the high table was the right thing to do. The right thing… Why did he always have to do the right thing? Why did he always have to do good? Why couldn't he be selfish? Why couldn't he do and have wanted he wanted? It was making him bitter. It was making him wish he didn't have a soft heart. If only he cared for himself on the same level as he cared for everyone else.

"Your Grace," His eyes lifted to look up at Margaery who stood before him, her hands folded behind her. "Are you well?"

Forcing himself to smile, he looked at his empty wine cup. "I'm just a little tired from the day's ride."

"Would you like to retire then? You shouldn't have to force yourself to stay awake." Her concern sounded genuine and saccharine. Despite how grateful he was, he was also put off by it, for several reasons.

"I think I will." Scrambling to his feet, he instantly felt woozy. It was obvious he was more drunk than he thought, and he was surprised to feel her hands reaching over to grab his in order to steady him. "I'm alright, my lady." He told her kindly, feeling her hands loosening their secure hold before moving back to her sides. "Thank you."

Margaery hadn't said anything but merely nodded, watching him as he stepped away from the high table to make his way to his bedchambers for his stay. It might've been wiser to visit his grandfather, who he was unsure didn't have much time left. Some wise words of the old might straighten him out or at least distract him from everything. All he wanted was a distraction.

Entering the halls of Riverrun, he finally found some sense of calm. His steps were slow, making sure he didn't work himself up just to end up stumbling and crashing to the floor. His mind was feeling a bit hazy as he tried to sober himself up, wishing he had some water to drink.

It didn't take long before he reached the solar, seeing his uncle leave his grandfather's room with Amara holding what looked to be an empty bowl. He remembered that she treated Hoster before, now understanding why she would be leaving him. "How long do you think he has?" Edmure asked.

Amara didn't look at him, keeping her focus on the empty bowl. "I would say a week at most, my lord. I'm sorry that there isn't much else I can do."

His uncle nodded feebly, a look of understanding on his face. Robb knew how painful it was to lose a father and now he would be losing a grandfather he barely knew. It was hard to compare the pain of both seeing as he knew his father all his life and only spoken to his grandfather for a few times. There still was a pain, a numbing kind that kind of ghosted around.

"Since death is inevitable, I would like him to go comfortably." He was suggesting some sort of medicine to let him die in his sleep. Milk of the poppy was usually used, but his uncle wanted something else? Raising a curious brow, he watched Amara cast a look of thought on her face.

"He won't take Milk of the Poppy anymore?" asked the healer, only to receive a nod as a reply. "I suppose he hates how delirious it leaves him. I don't blame him, really. I know what to give him, but would it be alright of me to talk to Lady Catelyn about this first? I wouldn't want to do it without her having any say on the matter."

Edmure nodded, "Of course."

He turned to leave, leaving Amara standing in the corridor. With hasten steps, he watched her head shoot up to look at him. "Your Grace, what are you doing here?"

There was no use in him getting angry at the title. He didn't have the mind to argue with her and he was too all over the place to be upset. "My grandfather… He only has a week left?"

Her surprise turned into a saddened look, her head moving in a slow nod. "The Maester and I have done all we can and now the gods will come to claim him. He can at least die comfortably and not in pain if your mother think the potion is right to give."

"It seems all we really see is death nowadays, isn't it?" Robb wished he kept that observation to himself, knowing it wasn't fair to make the situation feel more depressing than it already was.

"That's life; gains and losses come in cycles." No matter how realistic she was trying to portray herself to be, Robb could hear it in her voice how troubled she was by it. She was a healer, after all. What healer liked to know that there was a person they couldn't save? All men must die, yes, but a healer was supposed to make sure they didn't have to.

"It's not your fault." At least the could comfort her, he hoped. "You did all in your power and that's all that matters."

Her smile was weak and he was unsure if it was for herself or for him. "I know." Her head raised to look at him clearly, "How are you feeling?"

"I don't know." He answered, feeling the signs of a headache coming on. Honestly, he should've ate a bit more. He felt hungry and knew it wasn't wise to drink with his stomach empty, so he ate little. Amara was watching him, worried, and he didn't mean to look so weak. "I'll be fine. I was going to visit my grandfather, but it's safe for me to assume that he's sleeping, isn't he?"

"He is." Reaching out to him, she took hold of his wrist. "You need to sit down." Breaching propriety, Amara had lead him down the hall and looked both ways. When she saw a servant making their way to round the corner, she called out to them and the raised volume of her voice made his head throb once more and making him wince. "Please bring some bread, broth, and water to the King's chambers. He is feeling ill."

They nodded in a hurry as she kept pulling him along and he wanted to convince her that he wasn't ill, but he he couldn't find it in him to lie. Instead he let her keep going until they reached his room as she sat the empty bowl down and lead him by the back of his shoulders to a seat. "Amara, stop fretting." He finally said, face contorting into one of pain. "I'm alright."

"No, you're not." She said to him curtly, "You've been accumulating stress and now it's taking a toll on you. If you think I'm going to allow you to keep on behaving like this then you can forget it."

Robb snorted, smiling afterwards. She was so fussy right now and he knew it wasn't wise to argue with her now. He watched her stand by the door, arms crossed as she patiently waited for the servant to come with his food.

When a sudden knock came, she opened the door and it revealed Margaery. The both of them were shocked and Amara was the first to get past it and bow her head politely at the sight of her. "I heard the king is ill and I wanted to come see him. Is… Is it alright for me to be here?"

Amara glanced at him, waiting for how he was going to react to it. He gave her a nod as Amara went on to explain "I asked a servant to send him food and water, my lady. They should be here soon. In the meantime, I'll leave you to keep the king company." With a bow, she left, leaving him forced to stay in her company.

"I didn't mean to worry you, my lady." He truly didn't want her worried, she had other things to be thinking about. Like this wedding that would be happening tomorrow. Robb didn't want to stress her over something so minimal and he also wanted solitude. It was already hard to accept everything.

"You will be my husband," Margaery spoke rather softly, "it is only natural for me to worry for you whether you be ill or of good health."

With an absent nod, he shifted himself in the chair to get himself comfortable. "I know this marriage was… forced onto you." Unsure of where she was going with this, he watched her stand by the door and looking straight at him. "I also hear that you were in love with someone," He froze in place, wondering just where she heard that. Who told her? Did she hear it by chance or did she snoop around? "I was married before, so I'm not angry knowing that."

It had slipped his mind that she was married to Renly before. He died an untimely death and he wondered if the Tyrell had loved him. Parting his lips, he halted the question in his mouth and then decided to swallow it. It wasn't his business on whether or not she loved Renly.

The servant finally came and handed Margaery the tray of broth and soup, allowing her to bring it over to him. She sat next to him and placed the tray on her lap before handing him the bowl of soup, a friendly smile on her face. "Even if you cannot find it in your heart to love me, I think the least we can do is be friends."

Whether his heart warmed at her kindness or flared in a heat of guilt was completely unknown to him.

 **...**

The wedding was held in the Sept, mainly out of respect for Lady Margaery's faith and because Lady Catelyn encouraged it too. Robb didn't put much of a fight and even agreed to the marriage being styled of the Seven. Whether or not Robb chose it because his mother convinced him to or because he wanted his bride happy was unknown to Amara. Either way, she was glad to see him happy and enjoyed that the wedding was held in the Sept since it was built in the midst of a garden. There had been so many flowers she didn't know bloomed in Riverrun because she had never had the mind to visit the Sept.

The extremities of the different cultures concerning weddings had left her thoroughly confused. The idea of the bride wearing a maiden cloak of her House sigil and have it removed for her groom's hadn't made much sense to her. It was Lady Catelyn that had to inform her that it had meant the groom was taking his bride into his family and into his protection. She understood it, but it left her feeling like the bride was stripping herself of her family in favor of her groom's.

The only missing person in the ceremony was Lord Hoster. He couldn't attend due to his sickly state, but he had told them in a quavering voice, of how he wished Robb luck. He also berated Lord Edmure for being so old and losing to his nephew. It had been refreshing to see the fragile man speak and laugh, even if it meant him lecturing his son. It was also the first time she heard Lady Catelyn laugh in a long time and that just made the memory all the more sweeter.

Speaking of fathers, Mace Tyrell was a very arrogant lord, she learned. He constantly made a spectacle, wanting attention drawn to him on the day of his daughter's own wedding. She could also tell Robb was growing tired of him constantly slapping his back while muttering nonsensical things. The main thing that kept leaving his mouth was him bragging about his daughter being a queen. The Queen in the North she was now. Margaery would constantly try to shush him out of embarrassment and failed each time.

It was natural for a parent to feel proud that their child had become royalty. It wasn't every day a lord's daughter married a king, and Robb was a good king. That might've been her bias feelings towards the King in the North, but she considered Margaery to be the lucky one out of the deal. It could've been another woman who would wear the crown, but it was her because of the sheer numbers the Reach could give Robb.

Jon had also picked up how much of a nuisance Lord Mace could be. There were times she heard him muttering under his breath how much she wish the man would shut up, even going as far as to tease how the man looked. He said he look like a shrub because he wore such grassy green and was so round. It was hard to not laugh every time she saw him after hearing that. Even now as she watched the bride and groom speak to their families within the Sept before they would all make their way to the Great Hall for the wedding feast.

In the back of her mind were thoughts of Talisa. She even had half a mind to go look for her to see how the young woman was holding up. She had purposely avoided the wedding, for several good reasons. It would simply crush her to see a man she loved be married and then for Robb to see her among the crowd afterwards? Amara couldn't imagine the pain either one of them could possibly feel.

Everyone made a procession to leave the Sept to the Great Hall, but once they reached outside people did want they wanted instead of being orderly. She could tell it was making Lady Catelyn nuts that they weren't following the rules. She soon gave in and did as she wanted as well, speaking to Olenna as they walked leisurely. Amara knew she had to come to this feast since she skipped the first in order to take care of Lord Hoster. It was expected of her to show her face this time even though she just wanted to sleep and get herself out of this dress.

They were assigned colors; the details had been that specific. She, herself, wore a comfortable and bright dress, not as bright as Margaery's silver gown, but enough to blend in with the gardens as the Queen wanted. It was yellow, sleeveless, and flowing. The bodice did not hug you tight, just a snug fit. The straps on the shoulders had bunched up to make medium sized roses, fitting the Tyrell's House sigil. Amara hadn't mind it, loving flowers herself, but to some it was just too much.

Those that thought it too much? Arya. Amara thought she looked pretty in her yellow dress with her hair brushed back in a neat bun. Naturally, she was shocked to see the girl had submitted, but she knew better than to think Lady Catelyn would dare cave and let the girl wear breeches again. No, not as a princess she wouldn't. Her foot must've went all the way down for the Stark princess and that was why Arya looked so miserable; pretty yet miserable.

Sharing her distaste was Dacey; tall and lanky, dressed in yellow as well. Amara never realized just how feminine she was in looks until she saw her wear that dress. For as long as she known her, Dacey was just warrior and to see her as the proper lady was entirely strange. Also, she didn't think Dacey could wear any color that wasn't green.

"A beautiful occasion, isn't it?" Her head quickly spun so that she could look up at Prince Oberyn, who smiled as he adorned his Dornish yellow clothing. The man always looked dapper and clean shaven. Out of all days, he looked more princely now than he did before. "Tell me, healer, does this make you excited for your own upcoming wedding?"

Her eyes tore themselves away from him, her head tilted in thought. This wedding didn't remind her anything of her own, she just thought the customs were strange, is all. "Not really." She admitted, swinging her arms as they walked. "Jon doesn't believe in the Seven, he believes in the Old Gods. We are to marry at the heart tree, swearing ourselves before them."

"Swearing yourselves to a tree…?" Oberyn was puzzled, for sure, but he was also making light of it. "I'll never understand how a man believes in trees."

Well, some would call her strange for believing in a lion, wouldn't they? Lion of Night. Most people would call her mad, especially if she told them how he keeps demons away. She didn't bother to mention him to Oberyn, not feeling up to going into details about the gods of Yi Ti.

"Either way," Her eyes searched for Jon, who was walking alongside Robb with Theon on the other side. No doubt they were probably arguing or teasing the freshly married Robb to oblivion. "It was a very, very nice change. A wedding is thrice as better than being at war; seeing dead bodies, injured men, and all those other horrors we are forced to face."

The Dornishman nodded, "True." Letting out a soft sigh, she could see the sudden change in his expression. "I suppose weddings don't lift me as they use to. The last wedding I attended was my sister's."

Amara was well informed about the horrible fate of Elia Martell, a woman who deserved nothing of what she suffered through. Oberyn still grieved for her after all these years and she had hoped he found solace taking the life of the Mountain when he was given to them. Sometimes violence did solve something. It did give him the rightful vengeance Elia very much deserved. "At least nobody got their head lopped off."

His head whizzed to her direction, his face a mixture of confusion and shock. "That sounds more like a Dothraki wedding if you were to ask me."

Knowing full well of their kind of customs, she hated that she couldn't help but agree. "Many people died at the last wedding I attended." Forcing herself to smile, she gazed at the happy bride, who smiled from ear to ear. "So it is nice to see what a real good wedding is like."

"Something tells me that you, my dear, have quite the story to tell." She didn't want to tell him how spot on he was about that. Instead favored to keep herself quiet. "I wish these Northerners learned a thing or two about spices. I'm tired of smoked ham."

Chuckling, she tried to cover her mouth to keep herself from bursting into a full blown laugh. "I thought the same when I first came here, but then I adapted, sadly."

"You poor girl." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he reeled her in in play comfort. "Nobody should ever have to adapt to bland foods."

They separated when they reached the already filled hall. The person that caught her attention was Ygritte, who was actually enjoying the dress she was also made to wear. She often told the other men that if they had spilled anything on it that she'd blacken their eye. Her threat seemed to work because any man with a cup in their hands stayed clear from her, leaving her grinning victoriously.

Approaching the redhead, she saw the Free Folk girl smile at the sight of her. "Like my dress? Not as frilly as I thought it ought be but it be nice 'nough."

"You look like a true lady," Amara commented, "a lady that'll fire an arrow in your throat if she must."

"That's the look I was goin' for." Grinning, her head looked around the room. "Where's the pretty prince you're gonna marry?" She turned her head every which way until she saw Jon speaking to Samwell Tarly, who looked as if he was hiding from who she couldn't fathom he feared. Worried about him, she wondered if she go over to see if he was alright. "That Queen of yours…." Ygritte began to say, capturing her attention, "why her nose look like a boar's?" Despite how much of insult it was, Amara could see it was out of pure curiosity. It was rude all the same, however.

"Ygritte." She told her with warning, making her feel like a parent trying to keep her child in line. At worst, it felt like she was reprimanding Arya that she was being rude.

"What?" Not seeing what she was saying was wrong, Ygritte scrunched her face with question. "It does. Don't it look like on to you?" Not backing down at all what she was saying, Amara shook her head. "Ev'ry time I see her, I just want go oinkin' like one."

"Ygritte, stop it." It was rude, it was wrong. Margaery was a kind girl, one she hardly knew, but she had known that much. Still, Ygritte's oinking made it hard for her to keep a straight face and she nearly damned herself for wanting to laugh. "That's enough." She chided, feeling her eyes want to prickle with tears from keeping her laugh in her throat.

"I know you want t'laugh." Her grin grew and Amara picked up her skirts to run, run far away from doing something she would feel bad about later. "Y'know I'm right!" She could hear Ygritte say as she hurried her way over to Jon and Samwell.

"Well, for several reasons, I shouldn't be here." She heard Sam say, his voice shaking, his whole body quaking in what seemed to be absolute fright.

Concerned, she watched Sam immediately turn to her. "What's wrong?" She asked, "Are you well, Sam?"

"Hardly." His laugh was nervous, and very dry. Pulling at his collar, the boy was starting to sweat like he was in the middle of a desert. "M-My father is here."

"Your father?" The healer repeated, "Just who is your father?"

Jon pointed in the direction of one of the lords, one who's name escaped her. A tall, bald man, who was very lean for his age; a man of war, she thought him to be. Her eyes looked at him, seeing him speaking with one of the Reach lords. "That's Lord Randyll Tarly." Jon informed her.

She knew nothing of him. There was not a thought that came with the sound of his name. Amara turned to look back at Samwell, "And what of it? Why must you hide from your own father?"

He looked crestfallen, making her wonder just what he was about to tell them. It wasn't good, she never suspected. When a child hides from their parent, it is not without good reason. "He's the reason why I even took the black. He wanted me to renounce my family name or else he'd…"

Not needing him to explain further, Amara gave him a gentle smile and took hold of one his his large and thick hands. "Samwell, calm." She tried to lessen his fears and it didn't work. His palms were sweaty and he looked ready to dash out of the Great Hall. Looking to Jon, she gave him a very pleading look.

"What?" He asked, "I'm not sure how to help him."

"What is it that you want to do, Sam? Is there something you want to be?" She questioned, trying to find a proper solution to his problem.

Sam looked at her and then gave a hurried nod, "I hoped to study at the Citadel in Oldtown and become a maester."

She knew the perfect solution straight away. "And we'll help you do that." Turning to Jon, she saw him nod in agree. "Jon and I will be married and will live in a holdfast in the North. Why don't you service us as maester when your training is done?"

The Tarly boy looked shocked, eyes wide open. "Y-You mean that?" He said, looking at her and then at Jon, who nodded again but with a smile this time. "O-Of course! Of course, I'll be your maester."

Looking over at the Tarly lord, her eyes then went back to Sam. "And if your father dare comes to harm you, we will tell him just that. You shouldn't hide, Sam. Jon and I will not let any harm fall upon you, understand?"

Relieved and happy, Samwell gave a big smile and fervent nod. "Of course! Thank you for saving me, I really didn't want to face him. I still don't. Please don't let me."

"You don't have to stay for the feast, Sam." Jon inclined his head towards the door, "Go to the library or wherever else you wish to go. No one is going to force you to stay here." Realizing this, Sam rubbed the back of his neck abashedly. Amara gazed up at Jon, who had more to say. "Tomorrow I'll give you enough for a ship to Oldtown. You're a free man, Sam, you can do what you want."

The both of them watched him leave and saw him purposely duck and hide from Randyll Tarly. Once Sam managed to escape without being seen, Amara had let loose the breath she didn't even know she had held in.

"You know," She turned herself to fully face Jon, "I never thought to ask where we're going to build this home of ours."

Taking hold of both her hands, she kept her gazed fixed to his. "I was hoping we'd live at Sea Dragon Point. It's in the North and not too far away from Winterfell."

"What's it like there?"

"I've never been there." He made sure to point out, "I've only read things about it. There are a lot forests, hills, and lakes and rivers. You might not like the bit about the bogs though. There were once strongholds by the First of Men there but they've long since gone ruined. It'll take time to make a home out of it but it'll be worth the wait."

It sounded like her home or at least, the surrounding area of her home that she loved to play in. Amara grew up playing in forests and swamps, swimming in rivers and lakes. She enjoyed mud sticking to her feet the most and giving her parents grief about being dirty. He probably didn't expect the delight that came across her face as she tightening her grips on her hands, hoping that when they do have children they would get a taste of what she had growing up. "It sounds perfect to me."

Startled by the sound of the double doors of the Great Hall being forced open, Marq Piper had hurried came down the aisle and people had moved out of his way as he did. "Your Grace, we have an unexpected visitor."

Robb bore a serious expression, Margaery already at his side looking equally troubled. "Lord Stannis Baratheon has come to speak with you."

Amara furrowed her brows at this, wondering if this meant that he wished to join their hands. Robb had once cared to do so, but did he still wish to now? He said he didn't care who ruled the south, but those of the Reach would still care. They would still be affected about who they replace the Lannisters on the Iron Throne.

Robb turned to Margaery, telling her something that Amara couldn't hear very well due to the distance. Jon had then turned to look at her, "The feast is over since this is an urgent matter. You ought to retire for the night."

She wanted to fight to stay, even though she knew that this business had nothing to do with her. Briefly, she tightened her grip of his hands again before letting him go. Gathering the skirts of her dress, she had made herself leave with the rest of the ladies and even the queen, who looked annoyed that she wasn't meant to stay either. She doubted Robb appointed her to leave, she had a feeling that it was Lord Tyrell that suggested it.

Having her arm unexpectedly yanked, she looked up at Margaery who had such a strange gleam in her eyes. "You were sent away as well?" Still surprised by the sudden question and actions, she nodded quietly. "I hope you are just as curious about Lord Stannis as I am."

Her lips rose in a smirk, seeing that this was Margaery play of being obedient as well as nosy. Linking their arms, they had hurried their steps to higher level corridor that let one gaze down at the entrance of the castle. The both of them made sure that their steps were quiet so that no one could hear them.

By the time they reached it, they had made it just in time to see that Lord Stannis was led inside. Leaning over the banisters, the Queen looked down at the Lord of Dragonstone and contender for the Iron Throne. He was large, tall, and bald in the middle of his head. He looked much older than King Robert despite him being younger. Perhaps the war had made him haggard, she thought. He did have a kingly look about him, she could say that much, but something about him had made her wary.

On his left was another man, grey and dressed plainly. His eyes gazed around the castle in curiosity before sharply turning to his left to see a woman that neither Margaery or herself could properly look at. She was donned in red and slowly made herself to stand by Lord Stannis.

All the strength in her legs had completely left her and before she knew it, she was slowly lowering to the floor. She couldn't breathe, like a hand was wrapped around her neck and choking the life out of her. "Amara!" She heard Margaery call her name and it made Lord Stannis, the man beside him, and the woman in red gaze up to look at them.

Her eyes met the the cold blue of the woman in red and she had felt fear. She had felt a sharp, stabbing kiss of fire shoot up her back when it should've been the proper chill. The both of them were fixed at one another and the red-haired woman didn't dare to look away.

Margery tried to lift her, concern embedded in her voice. "Amara, are you alright?" And yet her words didn't seem to reach her as she saw the image of that piece of the nightmare she had desperately tried to forget about.

"It's her…" Was all she could breathe out, "It's her!"

Margaery's fixed a look at the red woman and then looked back at her, "What do you mean it's her? What about the red priestess?"

She had to warn Jon, she couldn't let the woman even take a step close to him. Scrambling to her feet, she had ran from Margaery to make her way back to the Great Hall. Margaery gave into the chase, picking up speed and grabbing hold of her arms again. "You have to let me go! That woman, she's going to—"

"Calm and listen to me. Explain to me what it is you're so scared about." How could she be calm? That woman plunged a sword of fire into Jon in a nightmare she knew for certain that was trying to tell her of future events. Still, it hadn't made sense that she was here when she was the last to kill him.

There were two other men before her, two she still haven't seen the faces of. It was supposed to go in order; Euron, then the other two, and then the red woman. Just the thought of her near him had her scared senseless.

A hint of reason was telling her to calm and that babbling and being scared wasn't going to save him. She had to watch her, she had to find her motives, she had to make sure that what happened before the red woman didn't happen at all.

 **...**

"No," Randyll Tarly spoke up, "if you join your hands with Lord and his mad followers of R'hollor then I shall take my leave! The Reach owes him nothing and it be a fool's choice to give him the throne."

Robb pinched the bridge of his nose, his ears being filled with the sounds of bickering lords. He could hardly hear himself think and would sooner a headache at this rate. The Reach lords were more than vocal of their obvious hatred and distrust for Stannis, even though Robb had reason to believe that it was due to what happened years ago aside from what happened to Lord Renly. What happened back then had nothing to do with the present. It seems like the sins and wrongdoings of the past kept forcing their way into the future.

What happened South did not matter at all to him. All he wanted was Joffrey's head on a pike along with his queen mother and the rest of the Lannisters. Who ruled South mattered not, but the idea of the place becoming rampant would further prove problems North. It wasn't wise to let trouble grow and rise before being nipped at the start. He once supported Stannis as did Jon. That support, however, came to a bitter end when it was discovered he was a kinslayer. He may have not dealt the blow to Renly with his own bare hands or blade, but he was involved and had the young lord's blood on his hands.

Robb's eyes slowly slid to look to Jon, who looked just as troubled as he did. It seemed to ask for his advice would prove fruitless since he seemed just as much as loss as he was or maybe his brother was assessing the situation to find the proper solution. Whatever it was, it needed to be one where he kept the hundred thousand men promised to him. He needed all the men the Reach offered for he couldn't afford to let the numbers lessen over something as trivial as to who would take the Iron Throne. But if he said no then he was also opening problems for a later date.

"Your Grace," the red woman known as Melisandre had taken several steps forward, her eyes looking up at him. The woman left his blood curdling. There wasn't anything right about her and he could feel it down to his bones. "I've seen many of things in the fire and I see many of deaths that will arise by your lack of actions of not aiding the man most worthy of being king. In days a dragon will fly here with a lone wolf in a sea of sunflowers and they will destroy all they think oppose them. Do you wish that, King in the North? Do you not see your inactions will cause great folly?"

He hardly believed she saw anything in flames and how she managed to bewitch a man like Stannis didn't make any sense to him. A dragon, a wolf, and a sea of sunflowers? None of that made sense to him and yet he couldn't help but feel himself strange by this so-called premonition.

"Is it the Targaryen girl you speak of, Priestess?" questioned Lord Paxter Redwyne.

"No, it is another." She answered him in such eerie calm, "A young man who has changed from blue to his true fair."

None of them understood, especially Robb. Blue to fair? But really puzzled him was the wolf. A wolf joining the hands of a Targaryen? How could it when they had heard the brother of the Targaryen girl was killed by the Dothraki? How could another Targaryen male be of existence?

"She lies!" Randyll turned to face him, his eyes ablaze. "How could anyone believe any of the things she spews? All the Targaryens save for one are dead. It is preposterous to believe there be another."

"The Lord of Light never lies." Melisandre didn't take his insult to heart, she spun to face Lord Stannis. "It is by right that my king sits on the Iron Throne, not only is he the only blood of King Robert that still lives, but he is descended of blood and fire as well. All of him is of king's blood."

It was forgotten that the Baratheon's grandmother was the daughter of King Aegon V. Most of the Reach lords had sudden caught on the realization of what she meant. The Northern and Riverlords didn't hold much of any expression or thought, knowing very well the decision made by the South did not effect any of them. Still, Robb had to keep them pleased. He couldn't afford to have anyone turn their back on them now. The war was almost done with Lannisport and Casterly Rock to be under their control before they marched to the gates of King's Landing.

"And how am I supposed to believe this, Priestess? I cannot see into the flames of your god and nor do I have any reason to believe what you tell me is truth." Shifting comfortably into the throne, he raised one fist and laid his cheek against it.

"You do not have to believe me, Your Grace. The ships of the dragon have already sailed and they will come South. My King cannot wait for it is Storm's End they will seek, you either give us your hand or let the Lord of Light do with you as he sees fit."

"I do not do well to threats and your god does not give me fear." He told her sternly before looking back at Stannis. "I may have joined your hand before, Lord Stannis, but I am more than wary since it is well-known that you're a kinslayer. If I join my hand with someone that kills their own brother, how could I hold any trust? If slaying your own blood is what you're willing then what might you do to me when you see no more of use of me?"

Stannis, looking iron strong, had kept quiet for a few minutes to what Robb guessed was to gather his answer. When he met the eyes of the Lord of Dragonstone, he saw ferocity. "I did not come to beg for your hand and nor was it a suggestion. I'm simply making clear that you are either with me or against me. That choice was yours and I believe the answer has already been made clear."

* * *

 **A/N:** When part of you wishes Austin was in Riverrun so that he could meet Shireen.

I'm not even sure how I'm going to handle Joffrey's death. There is so many ways to end him but poison isn't going to happen since Olenna has a new grandson.

Should it be gorey or should I be nice a write a summary about it? _Nice to Joffrey_... Like he deserves anything nice.


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note:** I took a long break than the usual weekly thing and wow I never been so anxious. I'm sorry this chapter is short, but I hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

"I can't believe you've convinced me to do this."

It might've been a fool's choice. A fool's choice that she was willing to make no less. Amara couldn't find it within any part of herself to be still. She couldn't just sleep and pretend that she hadn't seen the Red Woman. That woman that had such an impact in that nightmare that seemed to haunt her every single day. She was going to confront her and learn more about her whether it was risky or not. The fact that Jon's life was on the line blinded everything, even the thought that she might not make it back. What if the Red Woman decided to kill her out of reasons that her Lord of Light demanded it? If not her then Stannis out of retaliation for Robb refusing him? All things were considered to her, but none of them mattered more than extending the life of the person she loved.

"I didn't convince you to do anything, Dacey." Amara replied brusquely, "You only told me I shan't go alone and then proceeded to follow me."

Amara didn't just up and leave. No she planned this since she was brought to her senses after a long while of brooding. She waited until a few hours into the night had past and when Jon was deep into his sleep where he didn't stir awake just from the slightest of movements. It was completely dark now, but she didn't anticipate for the amount of guards to be walking around the halls. Amara figured that security would be stricter since Stannis was camped not far aways from the castle, but she got more than what she expected. Dacey confronted her before she even reached the the entrance hall and recognized her, despite being cloaked. Amara supposed her height was a dead giveaway since she was shorter than most.

"That you did, healer, but did you possibly think I was going to allow you to go meet her by yourself? Lord Stannis and that Red Woman are touched." If there was one thing Amara could appreciate about the Mormont heir, it was Dacey's straightforwardness and compassion. She always spoke her mind whether her opinion was asked for or not.

"I am more than grateful that you worry for me, Lady Dacey." As she said this, she looked at her right where the woman walked beside her. "But I didn't want anyone to follow me in case I didn't return."

"But you _will_ return." It sounded more like a demand than a promise, "How could I sleep at night with the prince not knowing I let you get yourself killed? Unlike _some_ people, I have morals."

Nodding in agree, she turned her head back to look out before her. The camp wasn't exactly large, but it wasn't small either. It wasn't something to laugh at or take pity on despite Robb's own army looked as if it could crush this camp with only just a quarter of his men. Numbers didn't mean everything all the time, but surely Lord Stannis should see that warring with the Stark-Tyrell-Martell alliance was truly foolish. It was plain crazy to a sane mind.

"Who's out there?" One of the men serving guard spotted them, making Amara come to a halt.

"Amara, sir. I've come here to speak to the Priestess." She had no title that would've gave her some leverage, at least not yet. If she and Jon were already married, she could call herself Princess Amara Stark. The sudden realization of that made her feel strange; to be called princess against didn't exactly make her happy and neither did it make her sad. And to lose her last name that she hadn't uttered in years? It felt like she completely removing all of who she once was by the last strand.

It would've made sense to hear a refusal but she was given none. When her eyes narrowed in efforts to try and read them, they were still speaking among each other. It all came to a halt when the Red Woman revealed herself with a torch in her hand.

"She comes to speak to me and speak we will." They obeyed her almost immediately, which would've made you think she was Lord Stannis' wife then just this priestess. Whispers back in Riverrun had said that she seemed to hold more power than Lady Baratheon and behaved more like a wife than his own. What Amara really thought they meant was to call her a mistress.

Dacey kept her hand hovering over the handle of her sword, looking tight-lipped with brows furrowed. The girl had a hard time hiding how she felt about the priestess and Amara couldn't blame her for it. The stories they heard were enough to make anyone on the edge. However, Amara composed herself for the better. Even with her own fears and her own hatred coming to a boil for her, she couldn't let it be shown like before. Her expression was neutral and all emotion was swept away like tides in her eyes.

Amara slid back the hood, not wanting the woman to think she was going to keep herself hidden or had a motive to not be seen. Her hands then came to fold in front of her as an act of poise and to rid any suspicion that a weapon was on her person. "What brings you here?" The honeyed voice of the priestess was close to her now. "I gave you such a fright earlier, I'm surprised you have the courage to meet me again."

"I apologize for my behavior from before, Priestess." Although it was a lie, she kept her voice silvery to make it sound honest. Even as she met the ice-colored eyes of the woman donned in red, she made herself smile; one that didn't look so pinched or forceful. "It was rude of me to behave in such a way. I come to ask for forgiveness, first and foremost."

Tilting her head back, the Red Woman presented her a smile; nothing about it was kind, just untrustworthy and lacking all the elements a smile should have. "How sweet. I hardly know a person who has ever come so willing to ask me for forgiveness. Since you ask so nicely, I'll return your kindness by accepting it."

"Thank you." With a curtsy, she could see Dacey's lack of understanding and anger still apparent. Amara wanted to tell her to at least try to be cordial, but she knew very well that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Her face grew hot from the heat of the fire that lit the top of the torch. Her eyes did not show her fright from it as the Red Woman drew herself so closely, using the flame to let her see clearly. Instead, Amara kept her feet cemented to the ground and did not flinch at the lack of the distance between them. Her eyes were being stared deep into as a hand came to grip her chin, "There is so much water in you."

"Because of my eyes?" Amara asked with curiosity, wondering what the woman had meant. She wanted nothing more to remove the woman's hand off her and back away, yet she kept her control. Her eyes wouldn't look deep into the priestess' out of fear of what she might or might not find, so she held her gaze out of politeness but never too long for more.

"Not just your eyes." She made clear, "Water is all around you. The Lord of Light holds no regard for water that dares to douse him and all that he means to touch. You, girl, are a person he shall not forget and I wouldn't take that so lightly. When the Lord of Light has you within his sights, it means he'll come to claim you soon. How he'll claim you? I do not know. I most certainly know that you have a purpose."

Her bones were stiff and a chill swept across her neck like a sudden gale. Amara tried not to shudder in fear of an act of weakness. She wouldn't let this woman rule her by fear, she wouldn't let this false god have any hold on her. This woman may have thought she was a vessel for this Lord of Light, but Amara was protected by her own gods. "I suppose one of the many he intends to claim is the Stark prince, isn't it?"

The redhaired woman instantly frowned at that, "How do you know? How do you know in the fire all R'hllor shows me is Snow?"

Dacey looked between the both of them, confused and distraught. "What are you talking about, Amara? What about the prince?"

The healer paid Dacey no mind, she didn't have the time to explain anything. The fact that the woman before them already had her sights on Jon was troubling enough. "Because I had a dream in the fire and I saw you."

"The Lord of Light gave you a vision?" Her voice sounded tight as if she was angry about the revelation. "And why would he give _you_ such a sight?"

"Perhaps he wants me to stop you." She truly hadn't known what the nightmare had meant, whether it was premonition of a future she could change or not. She already changed part of it, why not the rest? It didn't seem absolute and she was bent on not letting it be as well. "Perhaps your God does not like what you've had in mind for him and dares me to douse the flames you dare set afire."

"And you think _he_ belongs to you?" Her smirk made Amara confused more than worried. "Child, do you know what happens when ice meets water? It melts. It melts very slowly, seamlessly, until it becomes water itself. It melts and becomes one with the water as if it never first existed. You will melt him until there is none of him left."

As resilient as she wanted to be, as she hoped to be when confronting her, those words had her frozen. Those words had power and Amara was afraid of what such a power was. What did she mean by melt him until there was nothing left?

"Ice has no future, it only has a past. Fire? Fire is much more fluid than ice could ever be. Fire has a destiny, fire has a future; fire is ice's kin reborn." The woman turned, her back was all Amara could see as she had walked back towards the Baratheon camp. The light of the woman's torch grew further, leaving Amara in the darkness with Dacey at her side. All her strength was gone, she couldn't even feel the strength to stand. She slowly knelt to the floor, thinking what the Red Woman had told her.

Dacey knelt beside her, her hand resting on her shoulder. "Don't let that woman get to you, Amara. This is exactly what she wants. They say once you let that woman get into your head, she will never come out. She wants to haunt you and you musn't let her."

Everything that Dacey was telling her sounded true and she wanted to believe it. Amara slowly turned her head, looking up at the Mormont girl in the darkness. "You're right…" Swallowing thickly, she gave her a weak nod. "All she wants to do is poison my mind. I won't allow her to do it."

"Good. Now let's go back before the prince notices you're gone." She didn't have it in her to smile at that as Dacey did, but she did find the strength to stand and walk again. The walk back to Riverrun was quiet and Amara preferred it that way. She didn't want to talk about the red woman and nor did she want to about how they would be leaving again for Lannisport and then Casterly Rock. The idea that this war could halfway near its end only gave her a sinking feeling and she wasn't sure if it would ever go away.

 _"Fire has a destiny."_ That was all she kept thinking about. What had that meant? Could it mean that Jon would be reborn when she set him aflame? Would he be reborn as Azor Ahai as Asha taught her about. Perhaps there was something in Riverrun to teach her all that she didn't know or maybe this was just the Red Woman speaking in riddles to confuse her and not meddle with what was before them. _'No it can't be. They say she claims Stannis to be Azor Ahai reborn.'_ That quickly eased her fears regarding that and as she they entered the castle, the both of them halted at the sight of Jon standing there with his arms crossed.

"Jon… I…" Unsure of what excuse she could make, she slowly turned to look up at Dacey with pleading eyes.

Dacey returned her stare quick mouthing 'I don't know what to to tell him'. It was pure spur of the moment that she decided to make something up, "We just went for a walk, my prince." Dacey quickly said, "A little midnight stroll, just us girls."

Midnight stroll? Amara couldn't help but to find the excuse lame, but she had nothing better and so she couldn't fault Dacey's attempt. "A midnight stroll?" He repeated, not believing it for one bit. "Two women going out for a midnight stroll with an enemy camp nearby?"

Meekly lowering her head, she shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't want to talk about it?" She cringed at how angry he sounded. He had every right to be, considering how heedless she acted and how dismissive she was being. Still, Amara didn't enjoy him being angry, especially not with her. But what could she say? She couldn't tell him she met the Red Woman or why she did. She couldn't even mention she strolled to an enemy camp for the second time. Imagine how furious he would be? She could hardly look him in the eyes now.

"We're telling the truth, my prince." Dacey insisted, stepping forward a bit impulsively with her defense. Perhaps it was because lying to the prince was something she could condone seeing how troubled Amara was by it, she seemed almost too believable.

Making Dacey lie did make her feel terrible though, considering that Dacey was a forthright person. Amara's frown deepened at the sight as Jon sighed, seemingly acting as if he was giving in. Amara knew better than that, he was just annoyed right now. Once they were alone, he was going to interrogate her. He had every right to, she knew, but she didn't want to face it.

"I…" Clearing her throat, the Mormont heir looked around uncomfortably, "I… I must go to bed! Yes, it is late and I enjoyed our walk, healer. Have a good night's rest, my prince." And just like that, she quickly walked away and then broke out into a sprint when she thought it best. It only made her look twice as suspicious.

 _'Could you be anymore obvious, Dacey?'_ Unexpectedly, she felt long and rough fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist and she was jerked forward. Amara bit down on her bottom lip, forcing herself to keep his pace as Jon was leading her back into the room they decided to share. The hallway seemed long to her, possibly because she hoped they never reached their room. She didn't want to have this conversation and she didn't want to keep lying. She didn't want to look him in the eye and tell him lie after lie. The weight of these lies she kept telling was making her shoulders feel like they would never be free of it. All she wanted to do was just lay down and sleep.

This whole day had been ruined. They were supposed to be happy for Robb and Margaery, they were suppose to be planning a wedding of their own, but then Stannis and the Red Priestess showed up and destroyed everything. It wasn't like Amara or the Starks could avoid them forever, but why on this day? Why before she and Jon could swear before the gods of their own union and be happy for a time? All she wanted was to be happy with him and it seemed as if there had been a sudden curve in their path every step of the way.

The warm feeling of his grasp was gone once they reached their room. He left her to stand in the center of it while he went back to shut the door close. She didn't turn to face him, feeling his eyes on her back, undoubtedly with his arms crossed. Amara tried to keep herself from turning around, thinking if she just ignored everything it would be put to rest. "I want you to tell me the truth."

The truth? As if she could give him that. He wouldn't believe her even if she decided that telling the truth was needed. Not once could she think of a proper excuse or justify what she had done. She didn't exactly do anything, but she might've given the Red Woman an incentive to be vigilant in what she wanted to do to Jon. She was none too happy about the mention of her dream, she should've kept that to herself, she suddenly realized.

"Amara…" He sighed afterwards, uncrossing his arms and then reaching for her. Amara caught sight of his hand aiming to lay on her shoulder, but she spun away from him. In the back of her mind she wrongly believed he was going to coax her with affection, she briefly thought and then hated herself for it. Jon wasn't manipulative. That was wrong for her to think that. "You've been acting strange all day and you think I haven't noticed?" He was hurt that she moved from him as if she didn't accept his touch. Just another mistake along the lines of things she didn't wish to do. "Margaery told me of what happened when you saw Melisandre."

 _'Ah, so that is her name?'_ Amara couldn't remember ever hearing it. "I was… afraid of her." At least that had been some truth, "I was horrified of the stories I heard of her… How she burns people alive, giving them as sacrifices to her god. The woman is mad as she is frightening."

"You have no reason to fear her, she cannot do anything to you." Her eyes snapped towards him, her hands curling into fists in his grasp. Her lips pried apart to yell at him that wasn't true, but he wouldn't understand. He didn't understand anything and it wasn't his fault. It was hers for keeping it a secret and justifying it over that he wouldn't believe her. Would he now if he saw how strange she behaved? For the life of her, she couldn't reason that he would.

"I don't want to think of her anymore." She told him quietly, her eyes closed and a much needed sigh escaping her. "I don't want to think of her or Lord Stannis. I don't want to think about anything. I just want to lay down and sleep." As if sleeping could cure anything; only temporarily, it could rid her of these thoughts and feelings, but now she was much more fearful that the nightmare might return.

It was obvious he wanted to press into things and she wasn't sure if he held back for her or because he knew she was going to give him the runaround. He rubbed his forehead tiredly, almost like he was completely giving up. "You've been hiding things from me for months and then you expect me to just take your word for things? How am I to help you if you won't even bother explaining?"

"I don't want you to help me." It came out much more heatedly than she wanted and she caught herself. "All I want is for you to be safe. I want this war over and I want for us to go back to Winterfell, so that I can just believe that none of this happened. That this is all a bad dream."

He was a blur to her now. It wasn't her intention to be so upset, so emotionally, and practically a short step away from crying. What was crying to solve? Nothing. It wouldn't accomplish not a single thing and yet her body felt tired and wanted to cry. It just wanted to give up and just cry.

Since she was currently unable to see much of anything, she heard his footsteps that came closer. Her head was resting in his hands. "If it were up to me, we would be in our own home and in our own bed for the rest of our lives." He said, almost like he was cursing himself for being so greedy. "I can't promise you that until the war is done. Let me finish this war and come home to you."

Home. Home to her. It sounded like a dream, a sweet one and one she desperately wished to come true. Just thinking of looking out the windows and seeing Jon riding back home had sounded like a fairytale. It didn't sound like it was possible and even though she never understood how people could believe them, she wanted to, just for a second. Jon had made her want to believe in a dream and she loathed it. How was he able to do that? How did love have the power to cloak the grim reality that was all around you? How could it consume you like this? Her heart just wanted to take him all in like a sponge and never wanted to let any remnant of him out. Not ever.

Before she could mince his words, finding doubt and lies in all that she wanted to believe, she felt herself pinned beneath him. Blinking away her tears, her eyes went wide in surprise as her fingers began curling into loose fist while being held down by her head. Jon was hardly aggressive, it was her that had to do all the coaxing, but since they had first kissed… He never once reverted back to his passive self again. His eyes swept over her, becoming darker than they could possibly be, oozing with unrestrained desire and what seemed like the need to bring her comfort. If it were up to the both of them, she was sure they would spend hours upon hours in bed, between the furs and him in between her.

His hands loosened their grip on her wrists, slowly finding themselves to her hips, spanning her waist. His eyes roamed over her again, almost weakly. "Amara," The softness in how he said her name nearly set her aflame. It was just simple things like that, that made things much more difficult than they had ever been before.

"I believe you." She didn't think for a second as she said it, almost like she honestly believed that. That there was no thought process, just the raw truth of what she really believed. If she just decided to ignore everything and put her trust in him, wouldn't that make everything easy? If she had just believed that the nightmare was just her fears playing with her mind? If she had just believed the Red Woman was lying and no threat like Jon thought her to be then she could rest easy. She wouldn't feel this blame and these strings of anxiety plaguing her. If all her faith poured into him, she'd be free of all this.

 **...**

Speaking with Dacey about last night would've been the smarter thing to do. She obviously knew what was going on with Amara and yet she wasn't willing to out anything about it. Jon was sure he convince her, seeing as how she didn't seem too stuck to the plain. He just couldn't get the image of how upset she seemed to be out of his head and Jon likely thought the war was really starting to bother her. It made sense, in a way, since she couldn't exactly follow him to the fields. The closer they had gotten to meeting Tywin Lannister, the more anxious everyone seemed to be. She had every reason to worry, he knew, but that didn't mean he didn't want to help mitigate her sadness. It also didn't mean that seeing her like that didn't make him feel even less helpless than before.

She seemed much more happier this morning, especially since she was spending her time with Arya, who was forced into lessons with her mother taking charge in the Sept's place. Watching the three of them talk had relieved him some since she was finding some sort of way to put her thoughts elsewhere now. "How is she?" Robb startled him, not enough to make him jump, but enough to make him quickly turn to face him as they stood in the corridor. "Margaery was worried about her."

"She's fine." It seemed like he was lying, since she looked fine but that didn't mean she actually was. Still, the state she was in was of his concern. Robb didn't need to be bothered with what was going on with her. "When will be marching to Lannisport?" This war should've been their main concern, even if he didn't have his head all the way centered on it. "I didn't think we'd be staying here for this long."

"I was thinking you were going to get yourself married first before we leave or are you planning that once this is all over?" Their wedding hadn't came to mind since the distraction of Robb's own and other things. Did having a wedding now seem fitting? Would Amara be happy about it after how she was feeling? He still hadn't told her that he wanted to send her back to Winterfell. After how she behaved last night, he was sure she was going to enraged at the order.

Raising a brow, Robb rested a hand on his shoulder. "You did tell her we're going to send her with Margaery, my mother and Arya back to Winterfell, didn't you?" He slowly shook his head in reply, quiet as ever. His brother sighed at that, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And why didn't you tell her?"

"She'll kill me." Jon said in jest, almost believing that with how angry she'll be that she would actually consider doing it. "And it wasn't the right time."

"We're leaving in a week. when do you think it'll be the right time, Jon?" Even though Robb was right, he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to rush this process and he didn't want to see the look on Amara's face when he told her to go back to Winterfell. His mind kept playing out how she was going to react to the news and he didn't like any of it. He didn't want to be separated from her anyhow, seeing as they just reunited not too long ago.

It was for her safety that she would be sent back. She was going to be his wife, a princess with the Stark name. She was a target and what better fortified place than Winterfell? He could say Austin needed her, but it would make him feel guilty to use her son against her to get her to see reason. Robb didn't like mentioning their little brothers to his mother to convince her to back home, but it had worked.

"It is best that you tell her before someone else does." And with that, Robb had left him, leaving him to mull over the situation. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. It would've made sense to marry her and then send her back because she would see reason then, wouldn't she? They didn't have time for anything extravagant, not like he was hoping for anything outlandish as his brother's wedding was. He was alright with it being a small and intimate thing with no distractions. He hardly knew what she wanted out of all this.

The Stark prince did prepare some things for it. He took the time to study the culture and traditions of her people and decided to add a piece of home for when they decided to tie the knot. Jon hoped it would make her happy considered the last time she nearly married, it had gone all wrong.

 **...**

"Naran has taken Greenstone with Marq Mandrake." Peering down at the map of Westeros before him, a dragon piece from Cyvasse game had been laid to rest upon the place he had taken note. "Tristan River has besieged Crows Nest, and Laswell Peake has taken Rain House." Adding each piece to each capture area, his violet eyes looked up to Lord Stark that nodded with each place he mentioned. "And here I am stuck in this camp made to do nothing while Connington seizes Griffin's Roost. When will I be out to war, Lord Stark? Do none of you have faith in me to survive a clash of swords?"

"It is not that, Your Grace." Ned explained or was properly trying to in efforts to not rile to the Targaryen. "We'd rather keep you secret as I am made to be. If anyone should know who you are, you will shake everything. There are still Targaryen loyalists and would you rather them see you capable or a boy with men that can even take a few dozen castles? When suggest to lead, you will lead strong with accomplishments already made. That'll make the people notice. That'll out your loyalist and gather them to your side."

Whether it was coaxing or actual strategy was beyond Aegon. Lord Stark had a way of salving things, even letting his eyes never betray his words. Aegon had a hard time completely trusting Lord Stark seeing as the resentment was still there that this was the same man that helped lead the Usurper to the throne. With the time he knew him, he come to somewhat like his presence. He was a man of few words but many actions.

"Sansa should be back in Winterfell by now." Changing the subject entirely, he wondered how the former Warden felt about his daughter finally safe. "I've also heard that your youngest daughter his reunited with her mother back in Riverrun. Connington has been keeping reports on your son, King in the North as they say. Do you think he'll reunite the North with the South once we take care of the Iron Throne?"

Aegon wouldn't rule just one part Westeros, especially not just the South of it. He wanted to rule all of it, make all the lords bend the knee and swear fealty as they rightfully should since the throne was his by right and would be his by conquest as well. "I see no reasons why he shouldn't, Your Grace. Robb only marches South to avenge me and keep the Lannisters out of the North. If he sees me alive and comes to know all you've done for our family, he'll bend the knee to you, Your Grace."

Ned wasn't entirely sure about it himself. These were the words Aegon wanted to hear and that's why he said them. He wasn't sure what kind of king his eldest son was and he felt nothing but pride hearing all that he had done until this point. He was also proud of Jon, his accomplishments were spoken quite often too. It was no more of a surprise that Jon was now made a Stark, which Ned undoubtedly knew that Jon had always wanted.

How would he confront the boy about that? He didn't have a single clue.

"My aunt still stays in Meereen or so I hear. If she wants to play ruler of the city of slaves then who am I to make queen? I'll need a heir." The politics of it all annoyed him, especially since the idea stressed him. If only his aunt had married him then he wouldn't have to worry about either of these things. A pureblood Targaryen heir would've been made and nobody would have greater rights than that child alone. Still, any child of his would've been suitable.

"I've also hear that she had disappeared when the Yunkish attacked. They say she flew on her dragon and nobody knows where she has gone." His eyes rolled at this, ready to flip this table map over in the heat of his anger. How could she be so foolish? Conquering cities that had no value to Westeros or to herself? She wanted to play ruler so badly that she was willing to conquer anything? Her days of playing Aegon the Conqueror seemed to backfire on her now.

Setting his jaw, he unleashed a sigh. "Naran has told me of an older sister, one that fled to Westeros. He is my best friend and has done so much for me; an alliance of YiTi would be wise, wouldn't it?"

"She is of nobility and can give you a heir, yes." The man said very cautiously, "And Naran has given you an army because he wishes to be Lord of Storm's End or so he has told me. The Bataar will be a noble house here and your marriage and friendship could solidify things."

The Northern man hadn't understand why Naran wanted to relinquish his title as Prince of Yin. Why did the boy want to leave his home? He didn't understand. Even when he heard the outbreak of Greyscale in Yi Ti, he hadn't bothered to care. It was like he didn't want to go back home or even cared for it.

"So I should, shouldn't I? I look for her and I marry her and then I'll have a heir and nobody can question my rights to the throne." It sounded so simple and easy, but it wasn't, but to make Aegon think otherwise wasn't in Ned's best interest. He was still young and had a temper that flared rather easily. He truly had the Targaryen ways, especially the stubborness. He only hoped that he would become just a slice of what Rhaegar once was and not a reflection of his grandfather at all.

"We do not even know where she is." Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes briefly. "Naran doesn't even know and who would say she is still alive?"

Aegon frowned at this, not realizing just how lengthy this would all be. "Then we send scouts to search for her. Amara Baatar should be a rather easy person to find, shouldn't she?"


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note:**

HermioneeBlack: Thank you! Yes, that's what I'm trying to portray but Amara is not technically herself in most ways. She's going through a growth, afraid that she cannot keep thing she loves. She's going to learn that she can't control everything or stop everything.

htennis: I figure you guys would hate me for that! You guys are evil, like me.

amrawo: I wish I updated sooner, but its finally here.

darkwolf76: For some reason, I don't think Aegon is really the type to care about that! You know Targaryens, they only see what they want. Austin is Amara's adopted son, but she refrains from using such a word. She claims him solely as hers. Thank you, I try to keep them lighthearted even in times of adversity, but they can't always be that way.

Natalie: Neither one can catch a break. Too bad I still won't let them.

Louise: Your reviews had me laughing each time they came. Squad goals really made laugh so hard.

Guest: I know. I hate making her so weak, but I think its necessary at this time and during these situations. Don't worry though, something big is definitely going to happen in the next chapter which requires a fighting scene. ;) She won't be a damsel at all then.

* * *

War was entirely new to him. Quite frankly, Naran didn't think it be more than intense than it was. His heart raced so hard and so loud in its cage, he thought it would eventually stop and he'd die from the exhilaration alone. Everywhere was death. It was in the air, on the ground, before him, behind him; to his left and inevitably to his right. This was what war was like and Naran had never felt so strange, so barbaric. And what was he fighting for? For his friend? For his own conquests? This fine line between life and death was beneath his own feet and he wondered if all of this would be worth it in the end. He won this time, but who was to say he would win again? War wasn't predictable because the people weren't.

"Prince Naran." Lord Stark had brought him out of his thoughts, fading away the slices of quick memories that seemed to come and go. In the middle of his flashes of war was the Warden of the North, who seemed so troubled by looks alone. "We need to speak on a matter."

The man was always serious. He never once caught the man looking so relaxed, even when his daughter was here, the man was on his guard. He couldn't blame him. He was being used and his son was out in war; his entire family reeling after the actions he made when he chose to go South. Everything that came to be thus far could've been prevented if the man wasn't so honorbound and kind. He could've stayed North and let the South wreak its own havoc. That was the smarter thing in Naran's eyes.

"Speak then, Lord Stark." His eyes watched the wine swirl in his cup, the pavilion felt empty to him despite the both of them being there. It felt like his soul was gone, still out in the battlefield fighting already fallen enemies. "I respect you a great deal." He added rather truthfully. He didn't know Lord Stark very well, but what he did know, he respected even if their thinking was polar opposite. Jon Connington may have still hated the man over past events, Naran was not wounded since Westeros' past was not his own.

"Your sister…" Ned began, solemnly. Naran's eyes immediately flicked to look up at him, no longer amused by the ways of the wine he fiddled with. Just the mention of his sister made his bones taut and his mouth was already forming a frown. "Her name… Amara, is that true?"

How did the man come to know that? The only one who knew about his sister was Aegon. Why would the Dragon Prince even mention her to him? That was already troubling enough. "And what of it, Lord Stark?"

"I believe I know where she is." With his eyes wide, he immediately placed his cup down on the table. Standing to his feet, he tilted his head to beg the man to continue. His pride hated how eager he was. He hated her. He hated her so much and yet he wanted—actually needed—to know where she was. "Your sister is a healer and my sons met her in a village not too far from my very own home. She came and healed my daughter when she was ill and stayed in the town I governed."

It sounded like her. Amara was so fascinated with medicine since he could remember. When their mother passed and all that was left as her journal, Amara read for days and days with a candle by her bed as she tried not to let her tears stain the pages. Naran thought it was her way of grieving, of letting their mother go. He didn't think she would be studying medicine just to be the healer that their mother once was. She came to Westeros to be a healer then? Just the shock of these foreigners had to see a YiTish girl applying and giving medicine, he wished he would've seen it.

"So," Naran sat back down in his seat, "she's been in the North all this time?"

"Scarcely a year." said the former Warden of the North, who took a seat opposite of him. "She's a kind girl. I trust her with my family as much as I have come to trust you." Naran rose a brow at that. "It is because I have trust in the both of you, I think it wise to tell you what Aegon is planning to do."

It was just a thought and now it was confirmed true. Aegon had everything to do with Ned Stark coming forward about his sister. What was Aegon to gain from this? What did he want? And what did his sister have to do with it? "He believes he is in dire need of a heir and while I share this sentiment, he doesn't think he can trust it happen with his aunt. He proposes to marry your sister in her place."

It should've been shock that he felt. Instead, Naran felt nothing but amused. Out of nowhere, he found his own body shaking in an uproar of laughter. "He thinks these Westerosi lords will allow two foreigners to sit in power? Is he truly mad like his grandfather or was this all said in jest?" Aegon was his friend, his best friend. They had been friends for years since they met in Lys, but to hear this? To think Aegon thought this was a wise move? He felt like he hardly knew his friend anymore. Maybe Aegon was really desperate for power and was taking any option closest to him.

"If he plans to take the Iron Throne by force, I doubt he cares how the other lords will feel about him putting a foreign princess as queen. Many lords have resigned that Targaryens aren't fit to rule any longer."

"He is a foreigner himself, Lord Stark ." Naran's laughter died down, wiping a tear that pooled at the corner of his eyes with a swipe of his finger. "Westeros may be his native lands, his proper home, but he was not raised there. The Aegon they knew was a baby with its head bashed in by a man that calls himself the Mountain. He was raised across the Narrow sea by some man thought to be dead and had an obsession with the almighty Rhaegar. They'll think of him as a fraud, some liar with some Old Valyria blood than Targaryen. He'll have to prove himself, I told him this, but marrying Amara would only be a setback." Strategy or his own personal feelings? Naran wasn't sure. His feelings for his sister were hardly kind.

Ned was unsure why Naran found any of this humorous. The only thing he could praise was that he wasn't so quick to this plan. He at least knew the risks of all of this and he at least knew how unfavorable putting a foreign woman other than Daenerys at his side would be as much as it would be putting himself on the throne. Aegon would be the rightful heir on many counts before his aunt. Targaryen loyalists would flock to him before her or may not due to the dragons his aunt possessed. But was really making him king the wisest decision? There was another. Other than Daenerys or Aegon that could rule rightfully, of that Ned most certainly knew.

 **...**

"Stop your fidgeting." With her voice stern, Lady Catelyn's eyes steeled to make a slight glare in the mirror out of warning. Using whatever grips she still had of her self-control, she tried not to make a sour face or pout. How could she expect Amara to stay so still? She was getting married, even if it was happening a little too fast for her liking. There wasn't enough time for her to enjoy being engaged, to dream about this day into fruition, and to properly spend this time happily with her husband-to-be. It had to happen so quickly since they would all be leaving Riverrun soon, Lady Catelyn and Queen Margaery to Winterfell and Jon and Robb to Lannisport or to deal with Stannis Baratheon or whichever needed to be dealt with first.

Seeing as how Lord Stannis remained unchanging for the past week, it was hard to tell what that man was planning and whether it was safe to say or not a battle would happen. The soldiers stationed outside saw no activity that seemed like a threat, but who was to say that it would keep remaining that way? Riverrun had enough with Tywin Lannister, Amara didn't think it could stand another attack despite the time given to recover.

"What's with all the flowers?" Arya's question pulled her out of her thoughts, causing her to look at the girl's reflection in the mirror. Her face was scrunched up, brows knitted in her lack of understanding. "What do they all mean?"

In this room, currently, was Margaery, Arya, and Lady Catelyn. Brienne was on guard outside the door and Dacey declined, claiming she knew nothing about things like this. She also forced Dara to be with her, who was more excited about this wedding more than Amara was. She hadn't enjoyed being forced at Dacey's side, but she caved in as she always did for the Mormont heir.

"They are Sunflowers." She informed her, a smile present. "In Yi Ti, the clans have a family crest. Sunflowers are the crest of the Bataar family. It's strange, really, since they do not grow in Yi Ti anymore. They all died during the Long Night." The Long Night happened so long ago but it still effects parts of the world today.

Sunflowers never bloomed in the fields, which was why Amara's first time seeing one was in the Glass Gardens in Winterfell. After all, how could they survive during a time where the sun hid its face? Sunflowers need the sun to bloom, but even when the sun returned, the sunflowers didn't. Nobody has known why. It was always believed that it meant the Long Night would come again and when they finally bloomed, there will never be a Long Night again.

Arya, still confused, nodded slowly as if she only somewhat understood. "The Long Night happened there too? It happened here and that's why the Wall was made."

Sighing, Lady Catelyn stood straight. "No more talk of myths and legends." She warned them, looking back and forth at the both of them as she said it. "Now isn't the time."

Supposing she was right, Amara looked down at her dress. It was qutie breathtaking, considering how the seamstresses had so little time to make it. She could've apologized to them a thousand times and those apologies wouldn't take the pain of way of their probably sore, pricked fingers. Apologies just didn't seem enough or proper. Amara knew she would have to do something for them out of gratitude, but what? She couldn't think of anything yet.

The wedding dress was white with wisteria brocade. The top was stitch-made in the style of a tunic, high-collar with buttons on the right shoulder and short sleeves that only reached the upper-half of her arms. The skirt billowed out, not in a loud-kind of way like she had seen many Westerosi women wear them. It was comfortable and one she couldn't wait to childishly spin around in whenever she was alone.

Due to the stark difference in culture, she didn't have the proper hair accessories but that didn't really matter to her. Jon's present was more than enough for her and she slipped into her hair that she kept plainly fashioned; parting down the middle. Margaery tried to tell her to go for an updo, the thousand upon thousands of curls that she wore on her own head for her own wedding, but Amara preferred to be simple. Even during her own wedding, she didn't like to be too much different than anyone else. It was her and Jon's day, but the both of them were so painfully shy in some regards. They both hated being the center of attention.

"You look beautiful." said the Queen in the North, her lips the form of a sweet crescent. "You should dress up more instead of dressing so plainly."

Catelyn let out an inelegant snort. Her lips trembled slightly, like she was fighting a smile from coming across her face. "I've been telling her that for nearly a year. As of recent, she has only just decided to dress as she should."

"I like the way you dress." At least Arya defended her, "Why not try breeches instead? That way, you can be even more different." Of course she would suggest that despite being forced to wear dresses again.

"Maybe I should." Scowling, Lady Catelyn was about to lecture her of how unbecoming it would be for a princess to dress in tunics and breeches, but Amara was saved by the sudden knock on the door. Giggling with Arya as the woman tried to fix her expression, Lady Catelyn sauntered over and opened the door with a little fierceness.

The trio of girls were curious, leaning forward ever so slightly to see who came to join or interrupt them. It was Ser Loras, the Queen's brother who was newly knighted and apart of Robb's kingsguard. Many of the servants and healers though him so handsome, which he was, but she could vaguely tell that Loras wasn't the slightest bit interested in them. In fact, Prince Oberyn seemed to gain his attention more oft than they could. Unsure if the attention was out of lust or simply pure, Amara could hardly tell. "Lady Stark, the King wanted me to inform you that Stannis has fled South."

"Fled South?" The woman repeated in confusion, looking down at the floor in thought, she raised her eyes to look back at Loras. "Do you know why?"

Margaery quickly made her way over to stand beside her goodmother. Whether it was because she knew such a conversation was important because she was a queen or out of her own worries, Amara didn't know. Arya and Amara merely rose their brows, glancing at one another in efforts to figure out why Stannis Baratheon decided that Robb was no longer important. "There has been a full-scale attack on Storm's End by an unknown army. None are sure who leads the charge, but Storm End's siege is quite relentless. We have reason to believe it'll be conquered by first light or even earlier than that."

It should've made her happy that the threat that Stannis Baratheon posed wasn't looming over their heads anymore. Still, whoever attacked Storm's End with the intention to claim it had to be someone who wished to be king too, she thought. Who else was in the running to be king now? It seemed as if every day someone wanted the Iron Throne without having the right to claim. What makes this person different and better than Lord Stannis or even Joffrey? What were their reasons if not for power to be the King of Westeros?

The biggest relief other than the lack of Stannis was the fact that the Red Woman was farther away from Jon. Something told Amara that it wouldn't be the last they saw each other, but knowing she was so close was so nerve-wrecking. For once, she could breathe easy and possibly sleep well for some nights since the last time they spoke. "I see." That was all Lady Catelyn could manage to say.

With a few words between siblings, Ser Loras had left them but the room was no longer filled with lightheartedness of a girl about to be married. There was just unease now with only a little bit of comfort knowing Robb wouldn't be battling the Baratheon lord. Every time a battle was taken from him, Amara felt at least for both him and Jon.

"Do you think that army nobody knows the name of could be a threat, mother?" Still intrigued, Arya thought it wise to ask. Unsure if Lady Catelyn wanted to speak of it with her youngest daughter, Amara chewed down on her bottom lip to rid herself with what might be unwarranted curiosity. The woman looked at her daughter first and then at Amara, whose eye were big and swirling with inquisitiveness as well. She sighed and then shook her head.

"It is possible." She calmly put it, "Anyone could be friend or foe." With her eyes closed, she shook her head again. "The witch did say this would happen. She said a dragon will fly in the South with a lone wolf in a sea of sunflowers and they would destroy all they think oppose them."

A premonition? Amara felt bothered by line that spoke of a sea of sunflowers. What could that possibly mean? In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but to think of home. A sea of sunflowers… Could it be…? It was possible after remembering Jon said her brother was looking for her. Why would he come to Westeros of all places and join the war that had nothing to do with him or Yi Ti? That hadn't made any sense to her, but the dragon and the wolf meant something. Since she was so unsure, she kept herself quiet. She didn't want to breathe life into any theory or let her heart hold hope that Naran was actually on the soil of Westeros.

"You don't actually think there is truth to her words?" Margaery questioned in astonishment, despite her confidence she also seemed like she believed Melisandre's words or at least was trying not to. "She's a mad woman who asks fire for answers after she gazes in them without burning her lashes."

She hardly sounded like believed what she was saying. Margaery might've believed that once, but what happened to Renly was still a very frightening mystery. The whispers of a shadow baby that was born between Melisandre's legs or some sort of magic was still talked about until this day. It was much louder now since the woman came to approach them. "I don't know what to believe." Lady Catelyn admitted, sounding rather defeated and sad. "After all that has happened this past year, I know that there is nothing that can't be impossible. What happened to Ned, my sons, and to Lord Renly… I can believe in anything."

Lowering her head, Amara laced her hands before her. _"A dragon and a lone wolf in a sea of sunflowers…"_ The words repeated in her head, so softly like a lyric from the lips of a bard. The words gave her dread and at the same time, they gave her hope.

"No matter." Lady Catelyn lips went from a worried frown and to a smile, "Today is a day of promise, we must remember that." Trying to find the will to smile genuinely, Amara pushed her worries aside. "Everyone should be gathered, we will go to our seats and when you are ready, Brienne will escort you to Robb."

Robb would be the one giving her away, strange as it was. Since he was king, her king since she swore him fealty, it was proper and because he would be her family… It held some sense, but it didn't change how strange it felt to her. Naturally, it should've been Naran since she was fatherless. Amara couldn't imagine her little brother wanting to give her away to a Westerosi man or to any man at all. Just imagining the scene made her want to laugh. With a sharp nod to Lady Catelyn, she watched the three of them leave her alone in her chambers to let the silence she almost didn't remember be known again. Inhaling, she pressed her hand over her chest before she let out a rather loud exhale. She could feel her heart beating so fast as her hand rested there.

Her eyes looked around the room before looking in the mirror, staring at her reflection. It felt strange to be in YiTish like clothing, dressed like a princess of her country would be considering the last time she was dressed like this was for a previous wedding. This was so vastly different all due to the fact she was marrying someone she knew, someone she trusted, and someone she loved very purely. There was no forced emotions, no forced marriage for the sake of the country, but just her and the person she loved thinking that maybe a lifetime spent together was well worth it.

Once she felt braver, not feeling fidgety from her nervousness and glee, she finally left the room to see Brienne waiting patiently. The two of them hardly spoke, mainly because Amara didn't know how to approach her. Brienne was intimidating both in looks and presence. She always wore a stone expression and just exudes everything serious. Amara found her admirable because of her boldness, her proud declaration of her knighthood. She was unapologetic like Lady Maege and Dacey, yet she did not have any feminine charm like Dara. She also wasn't the friendly type, not in the slightest.

"Are you ready, Lady Amara?" Everyone started to call her Lady Amara when they knew of her engagement, just how quickly would that change to Princess Amara? The thought nearly made her want to cringe due to having gone so long without such a royal title. It would be different since she would no longer be Princess Amara Bataar, but Princess Amara Stark. Jon told her once that Stark meant 'unyielding'. It seemed fitting for every members of this family, but for her? Her name was spelled to mean peaceful, so she would be peacefully unyielding. It sounded strange when you put it together and seemed to make little sense. It did not hold the weight like Bataar had since it meant hero. Amara was no hero, at least she thought she wasn't.

Giving Brienne a nod, the two of them walked in the quiet halls of Riverrun. Each step was bringing her closer to marriage, which was starting to make her nervous all over again. As much as she wanted this, she wondered if she could be a good wife. How does one know how to be a good wife anyway? It wasn't something you could learn, could you? It just mainly seemed like such a huge task and Amara was afraid she wouldn't be able to live up to it. She wasn't a good betrothed before, so how could she be a good wife?

"Are you…" Concerned, Brienne leaned forward slightly with her brows fixed in a worried stance. Surprised Brienne saw her fearful expression, she washed it all away with a smile.

"I'm fine." Amara told her simply, trying to ease the Tarth's obvious worry. "I'm just a little nervous is all."

Brienne said nothing, just seeming to understand what she was currently experiencing. She didn't ask anything else, choosing silence. This was the first time she thought they could properly speak, but it ended too awkwardly for conversation. Now Amara was left with quiet and the clicking of her heels as well as the sound of Brienne's heavy, armored boots to rebound off the walls of the corridor.

It didn't take long before she saw Robb before the large oak doors that would lead outside to the Godswood. He was standing their donned in his kingly attire, adjusting his crown rather hastily. Trying not to laugh, she crinkled her eyes as could tell he was getting frustrated. Robb hardly liked wearing his crown and she could understand since it was so heavy. Before he could utter some curses, Brienne cleared her throat loud enough to capture his attention.

The King in the North quickly turned, a bit surprised to see them or just startled that someone saw him trying to fix his appearance. His eyes first laid on Brienne before looking at the shorter person, Amara, who began to wring her hands. With wide his eyes, he sooner broke out into a smile. "You look…"

"Strange?" She stopped him as if she was unable to accept any compliment he was going to give her. Why did she feel so odd now? Perhaps she should've gone with someone more traditional; Northern style. "You've never seen a YiTish wedding dress before, have you now?"

Robb shook his head, his reply leaving his smiling lips "Never." He told her with honesty, "But it is different… Beautiful."

Brienne turned to her, bowing slightly. "The King is right, you look beautiful, my lady." Though she said it so stiffly, Amara believed she sincerely meant it. "Now, I will excuse myself." The both of them nodded and watched her go through the doors, heading her way to the Godwood where everyone else was.

Not everyone she wanted to could be here. Amara wished that Austin was here the most because this would be his family now. Jon would be his father just as she was his mother. Even though the two were close and Austin liked him, she still would've enjoyed for him to see them coming together and for him to get a glimpse of what a whole family was like. He seemed so excited hearing about the engagement in the letters. He seemed so overjoyed, mainly for her because he thought that she should be "rightly married before she was too old." Those were his words exactly. Amara also wished the younger Starks, Rickon and Bran, could be here. She especially wished Sansa was here, knowing that a wedding setting suited her so much and because Amara missed her. She had been apart with her for the longest, but knowing she was safe in Winterfell was enough to ease her.

Asha, Maester Luwin, and Ros were another three she wished were to see her married. Asha was taking care of things in the Iron Islands, so she couldn't really attend. Even if she weren't so busy, this wedding was happening a little too quickly to properly invite her. She could imagine how uncomfortable she would be, hoping that the feast would happen much more quickly since that was much more of her setting than a ceremony. Ros? Oh, Amara could hear Ros making fun of her until the early hours of the morning.

"Nervous?" Her soon-to-be goodbrother asked. He brought her back to reality than her sad thoughts over those she thought were missing on what was supposed to be a joyous day.

"I'm shaking, can't you tell?" Goose-pimples were all over her arms and her heart was still beating like a drum. Her nerves would not calm and if they did, they only would for a few good seconds before driving her crazy all over again. "I feel like fainting." She admitted, linking their arms properly.

Robb turned to look at her, brows bowed. "Please don't." Trying not to smile, she looked up at him. "I wouldn't know how to explain that to Jon."

Chuckling, she gave his arm a squeeze. "Something tells me I should so I can be told how you stumbled as you tried."

With three consecutive knocks, the doors slowly opened to reveal the walkway to the Godswood. Strange, she thought. She had came to the Godswood so many times while she was here, but all of it felt so strange to her now. It was unrecognizable, like she had never been to this place before. It was the second hour of the night so the sky was filled with an endless display of stars, but there was no moon for it was new. It made her think back at what Zola had told her about what that had meant.

Robb began the march, keeping his strides a slow and less wide so that she could properly keep his pace. The two of them hadn't decided to speak for whatever, unknown reason to them. Amara tilted her head back, looking at the twinkling stars like she had never seen them before.

The only thing that tore her eyes away from them was when she could feel the only eyes she would be happy to look into for eternity staring straight at her. Lowering her head, she caught sight of Jon standing before the weirwood tree, back facing it, so that the front of him was turned to her.

She couldn't feel shy about the eyes of friends and strangers alike staring at her because his face brought her comfort. If she was beside herself, she would've ran to him, but because she knew that this was not the proper way of this, she allowed Robb to keep their steady pace.

Like it was the only color in existence, Jon still wore black, but there was a surprise hint of grey here and there on him. His hair was trimmed, not long and bushy as he would've allowed it to be, and he shaved some. Even though Amara thought him handsome clean-shaven, she recognized him better with hair on his face.

Now that she was by him, under the heart tree, she could clearly see that in his hands was a cloak. It was the same as the one that Robb laid on Margaery's shoulders. As much as she didn't understand or really like that custom, she didn't say anything. With some more staring and returned smile's, Jon finally spike. "Who comes? Who comes before the gods?"

Her eyes slowly turned to Robb, waiting for him to say the words. "Amara of House Bataar comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Me, Jon of House Stark, Prince of Winterfell." Jon sounded so sure, but because she knew him, she could hear the slight tremor of his voice. "I claim her. Who gives her?"

"Robb of House Stark, King of the Bride." She withheld her breath as Robb turned to her, bearing the questions she rehearsed to answer in her head for hours. "Amara of House Bataar, will you take this man?"

Without hesitation, bearing a little too much eagerness, she answered. "I take this man!" Amara blushed at how over-excited she sounded, leaving Jon beaming and a few chuckles from those that knew them that witnessed.

Unlatching herself from Robb's arm, Jon's large hand had took hold of hers as Robb made his way to seat next to Margaery. Intertwining their fingers, the both of them turned and knelt down before the heart tree. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head in submission. This time would be spent in prayer and Amara hardly knew what to ask of the Old Gods. They weren't hers, but they were Jon's. So what could she ask of them? 'Offer the man I love protection and long life. I also pray that I can bear him rightful children; plenty and healthy.' That was the only things she would think important or at least something the gods would want of her to provide him.

Jon raised first and she soon followed suit. The warmth of his hand left hers, almost too quickly for her liking. Amara had to turn to await the cloak he would lay on her shoulders, the cloak that bore the sigil of House Stark. When she felt the heavy piece of clothing on her, Amara felt so small, like it would devour her as she turned to face him again.

"There's something else." He quickly said, leaving her confused as it did everyone else. He reached into his pockets, making her wonder just what he was about to pull out from them. Blinking twice, her eyes went wide at the sight of two rings. Her heart instantly sunk, out of happiness, mostly. It was just the shock that brought the sinking feeling. "I read that in Yi Ti, you exchange rings. I thought since you would take this cloak from me, you and I should properly share something."

He placed the ring he would wear in her palm, taking her left hand, he slipped the ring onto her finger. Jon even knew what hands to place them on, much to her surprise. The wife wore it on her left, meaning she carried her husband in her heart. And with trembling hands, she placed his on his right hand ring finger, meaning he carried the strength of their life together.

Taking both of her hands, his thumbs brushed over her knuckles in slow strokes. Amara didn't know when she started to cry or why she was crying. They must've been happy tears because there was not one ounce of sadness in her at this time. She couldn't see him pull her into bring her closer, she couldn't see the lack of distance between them because it was all blurry; just one, grey blur. None of that mattered though, not even the roar of applause. The only thing that matter was when his lips pressed to hers because this cemented that they were bound with feelings along with vows. That this marriage meant they were bound for soul and life, no matter how long or short it would all be.

His hand took hold of hers again as they would be making their way to the Great Hall. It was a lucky thing, for them, that the Tyrells had brought so much food or else she'd fear the castle would be left starving with the constant feasts and weddings that had taken place. Amara leaned into Jon and due to her height, she could only pressed her head into his arm as they walked. They were swarmed with people, congratulations and even the teasing of those who couldn't utter a single word of praise without poking fun.

Jon seemed the happiest, even when the situation seemed so unlike him for him to be looking so content. Surrounded by a sea of people, he held his smile and kept the crinkle of his eyes. Amara wondered just what he was thinking right now exactly.

"Prince Doom-and-Gloom is finally married," Theon said with, squeezing between the both of them with his arm wrapped right around them. It seemed fitting, for him to behave like this. "First it was Robb and now you," He said to Jon, shaking his head. "I guess I'm next, huh?"

"I have a feeling Bran will be the one to marry before you do." Amara snickered as Theon suddenly scowled, his look quite menacing towards Jon. "Only a woman gone mad would marry Prince Theon."

Her snicker turn into a full blown cackle. "Keep it up, Jon, and I'm gonna be the reason why you're being buried on the day you tied the damn knot."

"I'm glad you could stay, Theon." Amara told him, steering the conversation to a much lighter side. "It is good to see you."

His glower softened, etching a way to a usual grin. "It's the least I could do. I still couldn't believe he was gettin' married. I had to stay so I wasn't thinking it was all some sort of weird dream."

"Will we be attending any wedding of yours any time soon?" Amara couldn't imagine Theon settling down, ever. Even as an old man, she saw him still a lecherous man that could not be satisfied by one, single woman.

"Got to have me an heir, don't I?" She nearly forgot that. The poor woman, she was bound to be cheated on… heavily. Unless she was a salt-wife, which she hoped Theon wouldn't have. A salt-wife was a woman by the iron price, which she hoped would die in tradition in the years to come. "'Sides, I'm going to have fun seeing all of you miserable with marriage. Then again, Jon is always miserable." He turned to face her, "You just make him a little… _less_ miserable."

Rolling his eyes, Jon decided to not say anything. She knew he wanted to, his lips were begging to as they twitched, but what she saw was a smile instead. So maybe Theon wasn't that insufferable to him or maybe he was a little right about what he said.

The three of them stayed together until they reached the Great Hall, where Theon promised them a toast that left Amara feeling uneasy. He was so crude, she worried his words will leave Lady Stark jumping straight out of her boots and out of the realm of order. What would Greatjon say? Oh, she feared that the most; curses and crass. She couldn't expect nothing less.

The both of them sat at the high table with Robb on the throne and Margaery beside him. "I'm scared." She bothered to whisper, leaning towards him with her hand gripping the sleeve of his gambeson. "Should we let Greatjon or Theon make any toasts? Lady Catelyn is bound to set the place aflame if they do."

Jon hid his laugh behind his chalice, eyes slowly looking at her as he kept his voice low enough for her only her to hear. "That would be quite funny, wouldn't it?"

Her fearful expression soon faltered, a mischievous glint in her eye. The only reason she was so worried about them speaking was because she thought Lady Catelyn would blame her for it, but she was the bride. How could she be put to blame? She could laugh and enjoy it without fault and not suffer the woman's wrath later on. "You have a point…"

There were people she never met here like Alys Karstark, two of Greatjon's daughters, and a few others that had been invited to join them since they weren't too far from Riverrun and would be safely escorted back. There was also the fact that Robb had planned a marriage between Lord Edmure and Lord Karstark's only daughter.

The both of them quickly straightened as people came to the tables bearing them gifts and blessings. Amara didn't expect any gifts, but because Jon was a prince, they felt it only right even though this wedding was rushed. Greatjon was grinning from ear to ear as he approached the table, leaving her smiling at how bright his face was. "Well, look at you two, I see _two_ blushing brides."

Jon frowned instantly, making Amara laugh at the quickness of his expression. Jon was always considered pretty to many of the lords and ladies, and he hated every single time it was mentioned. "My husband _is_ quite beautiful." She fed onto the ongoing joke, making his frown deeper but a twinge of red on his face.

"Hopefully tonight, his seed quickens and we get us a heir. Our queen doesn't seem to be showing any signs."

Now it was her turn to be completely flustered, her face nearly turning the same color as a rose itself. Amara did want children and took care of herself to not have any before they were married or prior to the fact when she wasn't sure if they would ever be together. She still wasn't ready for another child, especially when she barely spent enough time with the child she already had.

"Please, Greatjon, I'm not looking forward to a honeymoon baby." Amara said in all her honesty.

"Neither am I." Jon was still blushing, furiously, and taking another sip of wine to calm himself.

"Well one of ya has to be having a baby." Although he was right in the matter of politics, Amara felt that the pressure shouldn't be on them. Robb and Margaery were friendly, not at all lovers, and were coming a long way from the awkward stage they originally had. She didn't think Margaery was eager for a baby either and if she was? Well, Amara could guess it was Robb that was holding back.

"I think you should be telling Robb that." Jon pushed, "He's the king, not me." Greatjon seemed unsatisfied by the answer, sighing some. He then nodded, supposing that he would have to nag at Robb about having the proper heir. Jon couldn't be the heir forever; his prince status would remain unchanged despite the fact.

For a second, Amara wondered what a child would look like between the two of them. Since the both of them were black of hair, Amara doubted the child would have hair any different. The only change would be whether they had her straight hair or Jon's curly locks, would they have his dark and grey eyes or her blue ones? Would they have his Northern look or her YiTish/Rhoynar appearance?

Either way, Amara could feel the love for this hypothetical child blooming in her heart already. Now the sense of wanting a child came, but it didn't last. She was not ready. She did not want to raise a child while her husband was still in war. She wasn't sure how Lady Catelyn could do it, raising a child alone during the Rebellion, but Amara didn't think she could be as strong nor as brave.

After Lord Umber, many other lords came, she finally met Randyll Tarly personally. Meeting him wasn't exactly of pure intentions since she couldn't fight her own biased feelings. This was the man who had hurt Samwell, being the young man's very own father. He didn't seem at all excited about the event, he was simply here because he had to be. This marriage served nothing to him, so she didn't expect for him to be very much joyous. He didn't seem like the type to be happy because the environment was anyway. It could've been her own bias clouding her judgement.

Samwell was still here. Once he heard that they pushed this wedding ceremony, he thought it only right to be here and see the two of them like this. Amara couldn't find him right now, but she was sure that once his father was too preoccupied that he would show himself again. The need to duck and hide like this was getting old, but she couldn't force Samwell to own up to all of this. If he wished to not confront his father then she would let him do as he wanted. This was his family, his life.

"Princess Amara." The title made her grimace like a minor wound. Trying to control the obvious frown, her eyes lifted to see what looked to be a servant. He handed her a rolled piece of paper, obviously a letter. Curious, Amara gave him a nod in thanks before unrolling it with eagerness:

 _I'm a little shock and surprised to hear that you are engaged again. I thought I should've been the first to know of all people. No matter, I have written to tell you that I know where you are and will come to see you when all my business is tied up here. After all, the bride must have a proper dowry and I can provide just that. I hear your husband is an excellent fighter, he even took down a man that is known as the Kingslayer. I don't know how many times I heard of that tale… I'm quite sick of it actually. What a man you married though. Are you attracted to fearsome fighters? I suppose there should be some pride in the spirit of your deceased betrothed._

 _Nevermind the past, I look forward to meeting you again after all these years._

 _Your Loving Brother,_

 _Naran."_

What was she to say? How was she supposed to feel? Her mind kept asking how did Naran know where she was and that she was engaged? He even heard of Jon out of all people. Amara was white as chalk, still blanching from reading this letter she almost thought she was imagining. With her eyes and mouth still frozen wide open in shock, holding that pure look of stunned surprise, she kept staring at the letter and reading the word over and over.

"What's the matter?" She could hear Jon say and she could move her head to face him. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the letter in her hand.

It took a while for it all to wear off and for her to look at him, almost like she was seeing past him. "Naran just sent me a letter."

Astonished, Jon held his hand out for the letter and she barely moved as she handed it to him for him to read. It pained her that she did not feel immediate happiness like she thought she would have. In fact, she felt numb almost. Like she didn't have the right to speak to him. After all that she had done… No, Amara promised to forgive herself and that if it was meant to happen then it would. Naran wanted to see her. After all these years, he wanted to see her face-to-face, and she would not deny him or herself that because of the guilt that still lived within her.

"This is great news." He sounded happy, for her. He even pressed a kiss to her temple in order to make it seem like this was all natural and good. Was she overreacting? Amara was starting to feel that she did that a lot lately. "Strange how he hears of me." He still wasn't used to the fact that there was not a soul in Westeros that did not know his name and his accomplishments thus far. After being simply known as Ned Stark's bastard, he wasn't used to good things being known or said about him.

"It is…" It came out in the sound of a whisper, her shoulders drooping as she thought of how Naran must've felt hearing all of this about her. Her getting married and starting a new family without him in it. He must've heard of Austin and thought she was so content without him. He wouldn't know how much she still grieved for leaving him or her regrets of what she had done to her family. He must see her so selfish and he still wanted to see her and speak with her. 'He became a good person without me.' She felt better about that at least, glad that he was still good and the world had not done him harm.

Amara could barely pay attention to anything afterwards. She scarcely ate the dinner or even the cake, half of the toasts sounded like murmurs to her ears. Everything was moving except her, lost in her thoughts and debating whether she should be happy or worried. What if Naran would be disappointed seeing her? How much has he grown and change? Why she felt nervous when she wasn't meeting him yet? What was he doing here in Westeros?"

 _"—in a sea of sunflowers."_

Came to her mind again, wrapping itself around her mind like a fragrance does to your sense of smell. He was the sea of sunflowers, wasn't he? He allied himself with a dragon and a wolf, of whom she could not figure out save for one was a Targaryen from her understand. The wolf? Who was the wolf now? Now she couldn't forget it. Now she hated she pushed it aside. What if Naran had a reason to be here? Why was he apart of this war? Could she protect him? Did he need her?

By the time she finally brought herself back to earth, she was in her temporary bedchambers. Blinking twice, she looked around in confusion. She was still wearing her dress, which meant the bedding custom wasn't performed. Amara had hoped it wasn't, not liking the idea of any man's hands touching and undressing her. She also didn't like the idea of women touching and undressing Jon either. Who made such a custom? Why were the people of Westeros so hypocritical when it came to virtue and modest? When she called them ass-backwards, Jon merely laughed for a good hour straight when she told him that once.

Jon wasn't in the room, which seemed strange. By the time she turned to go towards to the door to do whatever came first in mind, he came walking in as if he had only left her for a few short minutes. "Feeling better?"

"I… I was acting strange, wasn't I?" She already knew the answer but she wanted things by detail.

"You didn't talk for a two hours." Two hours? Amara got lost in herself for a whole two hours? "Nobody noticed except for Robb and I."

That was good. That would've been embarrassing if she sat still like an empty vessel and people began to notice. Her hand reached to her head, massaging one temple. "I wonder if… If my brother is somehow involved in what is happening down South."

"Why would you think that?" How could she properly explain? He would say that Melisandre was spitting nonsense, but what she said was… true. There was some truth in the things she said. How terrifying was it for Amara to admit that fact. "The Red Priestess…"

"Her again?" Amara swallowed the defeated sigh she nearly let out, "I told you before…"

"But she was right." She urged, "She spoke of a dragon and a wolf in the sea of sunflowers. It is a Targaryen boy leading the charge, and Naran… Naran could be helping him. He is the sea of sunflowers; it is my family crest."

All Jon could do was look at her, putting some thought into all of this. He couldn't deny that, could he? Could he not see how she could make such a connection? "It could be a pure coincidence." …She supposed that was true. It could be or at least Amara wanted to believe that since she was afraid of what everything could mean. "Do you really want to think of her? _Now_ of all times?"

Lowering her head, Amara felt guilty for bringing this all up on their wedding day. This was a day of celebration, where worries should be over little and silly things like how the cake wasn't sweet enough or how terrible people danced. She didn't even enjoy that much since she spaced out for a whole two hours.

"I know, I know." Nodding, she gave him a fond smile. "You and I should be on my mind right now. Naran's letter just… surprised me, is all."

"And there's nothing wrong with that." His hand pressed to the side of of her head, trying to be reassuring as he always was. "Your brother means a lot to you, I know that, and I would never encourage you to forget him."

He was good to her, to her pain and her doubts. Jon always tried to salve them with his kindness, with his understanding, with his empathy. For Jon to have been through so much in his own right, he always tried to make her see the brighter side of things even when he couldn't see it all for himself.

Without warning, Jon lowered his head to press his lips to hers. Amara did not give him struggle, and could barely suppress the moan that seemed to leave her. Tonight should be spent in romance; blissfully happy with the man she married. The outside world could bother her tomorrow.

As his arms wrapped around her, she could feel herself leaning in to the pliant warmth of his body that seemed to spur her on. Everything about him was warm, from his gentle touches to his lips. Amara could feel his fire all the way to her toes and up to her fingertip, her hands grasping onto his shoulders and bawling up the material of his clothes. That warm feeling she felt the first time they were together pleasantly began to coil deep within her, becoming stronger and nearly impossible to ignore or deny.

 **...**

"Kevan…" Tywin Lannister remained seated in his pavilion, his elbows pressed to the table and his hands locked to make a bridge. His brother stood before him, eyes still scouring the daily reports that seemed to change by the hour. Whatever his brother was reading currently had his complete focus, so much so that he didn't even hear Tywin call his name. "Kevan." He said his name again, a little bit louder this time.

Snapping his head up, Kevan looked him in the eyes to give him his full attention. "Ah, yes." Clearing his throat, the Warden of the West closed his eyes to receive the news that had been brought to him. "Tyrion is doing well as Hand though Cersei still has some complaints for the changes he made." As if he wanted his daughter's complaint. It was her rotten parenting that created this whole entire war he could've been without. "Storm's End has been attacked and conquered by an unknown army."

His brow rose at that, his eyes glittering with curiosity. "An unknown army?"

"Yes, they have no banners or House colors that we know of." Curious, Tywin wondered if they were a potential threat or someone they could join hands with. The Stark boy had made himself a large army based on his many allies he seemed to made in the near year. If only Petyr had been able to win a marriage between Joffrey and Margaery then it would've been him with the greater number and the Reach within the palm of his hand. Littlefinger would be punished for failing him in that regard.

"And you know nothing of who is at the helm of it?" Tywin asked, only to receive a solid no from his brother.

"There are only rumors." Kevan looked back down at the letters, "They say it is a Targaryen." A Targaryen? Surely not the surviving girl. It would've been hard for her to hide, but her brother was known to be dead. Another Targaryen? Surely it was some fool hiding behind a false name or perhaps someone who was using Daenerys to fight in her name.

Setting his jaw, he briefly closed his eyes to process all of this. "Anything else?"

"A foreign prince is with them and many of my men have begun to think that is also Lord Stark with them." That made his eyes shoot open and it took everything in Tywin to not slam his fist against his desk. Ned Stark? Tywin hoped the man drown at sea after his supposed escape. Now the man was back with a vengeance? If Robb Stark found out his father was alive then they would forget Lannisport and Casterly Rock. What was to stop them from marching straight to the South, join the hands of the allies Ned Stark made for themselves, and swarm King's Landing?

"Does his son know?" The question came quickly, his voice resounding all his pent up anger.

His brother shook his head, "Not that I am aware of, fortunately enough. Should we still proceed with the plans?"

Tywin, relieved, nodded. "We'll split up by first light and make our way. It is about time I bring this Wolf King and his bastard brother to the heel."


End file.
